


Rise of the Dragon King

by Silentmew



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Eragon (2006), LARP - Fandom, Original Work, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, live action role play
Genre: Adventure, Blood Magic, Books, Dragons, Elemental Magic, Elves, Fluff and Smut, Forced Pregnancy, Gladiators, Kidnapping, Magic, Multi, Mystery, Novel, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Original Universe, Other, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, Slavery, Smut, Still birth triggers, Swords & Sorcery, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silentmew/pseuds/Silentmew
Summary: Lucan, youngest son of legendary king and Dragon rider, finds a dragon egg and is thrust into a new life. Set on a quest laid out by an ancient prophecy, Lucan fights to free Meratora from the grips of evil and restore the balance. This is how legends are made. This is the rise of the dragon King





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is all character introduction, bare with me, it’s inportan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Rowan takes his two sons in a journey to marry off his eldest when they are attacked on the road

The night was cold, too cold for summer. Yet the wind howling through the trees stood as a constant reminder, autumn is coming. Soon the trees would start to change and the leaves begin to fall. On the wind blew rustling the trees around the small camp, set in a clearing at the heart of the Green Wood. Rowan, a middle aged man of average build sat by a fire. He shivered, pulling his woolen blanket tighter around his shoulders. He was a handsome man though many years of battle had worn lines in his pronounced face. His once dark brown hair now streaked with grey, hung in waves to his shoulders, his hazel eyes torpid and weary from the days travel. Accross from him a man sat sewing feathers on to a mask, beside him another man sat telling stories to some of the children that lived in the camp. The strolling players were a hardy bunch and always welcoming to visitors for the simple price of a few silver coins.

Not far off a young boy spars with a boy of similar age and a rather large soldier, in a three way battle, holding his own against the man. Eckhart was the eldest of King Rowan’s sons, a born soldier and already accomplished at 16. He looked much like his father and Rowan looked on him with pride. Eckhart was truly remarkable and born to be a king, every detail of his appearance from his dark aubern hair, that hung in neat waves to his elbows even when tied back, his proud brow and established build, his strong stature and eyes as green as the forest leaves. Despite his elfein mother Eckhart could pass for entirely human, only his fair skin and almost unnatural gracefulness betrayed his half human nature. The boy Eckhart spared with was Tassin, his father’s ward. Tassin had lived in the castle for as long as Eckhart could remember and was much like a brother to the two boys despite the widely spread rumors that Tassin was in fact Rowans illegitimate son. Tassic certainly resembled Rowan but no more than any cousin or distant relative may. Nonetheless Rowan had loved him as his own.

Rowan watched the boys with pride, scowling when he realized Lucan was no where to be found. He scanned the camp ground searching for his second son, seeing one of the horses was missing from the line up. “What ever am I going to do with that boy? Athalos have you seen Lucan? He’s taken one of the horses, he shouldn’t be out on his own.”

“I will find him my lord,” Athalos replied. Athalos was Rowan’s oldest friend and advisor, he rarely left Rowans side.

Lucan, Rowan’s youngest son, five years younger than his brother and clumsy to no end. Infact any one who didn’t know better might mistake Lucan for anything but Rowan’s kin. Lucan took after his mother by way of his fair skin, delicate build almost like that of a girl, and pointed ears, he looked more elf than human. He was tall like Rowan and shared his dark brown hair but even his eyes were out of place, one electric blue, the other a bright bottle green. He had no interest in fighting or his studies but instead preferred to spend his days laying under the trees daydreaming of adventures. What was worse, Lucan had a particular proclivity for trouble. A nice boy at heart but wild and unpredictable, traits Rowan did not particularly appreciate in his son. This night was no different. The wind whooshed past his face as he rode, feeling the horse move beneath him as they galloped through the cold night air. It was his father’s horse he’d taken. Many nights Lucan had admired the stallion, wishing for a horse just like him instead of the pony he’d been given. But most of all he had wanted to impress the girl who now clung tightly to his back, tinny hands grasping around his waist, face pressed into his shoulders.

Niryn, a goddess in human form or so Lucan pictured, she was the daughter of one of the strolling players. With perfect golden curls tied up in ribbons and little golden bells around her ankles, Lucan had been entranced with her from the moment he had first watched her dance. He loved her and could not understand how she could love him in return despite his appearance, though she thought he was beautiful, Lucan often wished he looked more like his brother. Lucan’t build was slight and lanky, his face fair, almost like that of a girl’s, making him take more after his mother. His eyes, one blue and one green, stood out against his fair skin. Their mother was a woodland elf, and much to Lucan’s great dislike his ears betrayed his half blooded self, whereas Eckhart could pass for entirely human.

Something in the bushes beside them made the horse jump to one side with unease. “I think we should go back,” Niryn suggested nervously

Back at camp the wind was picking up again, this time it carried with it a voice like a warning. “Run” it said. A tree branch broke somewhere in the trees, Rowan jumped up, his sword drawn in one practiced motion. All around him men were drawing swords; he could hear the chilled steal and the clatter of their armor. Some had already fled; these few who remained would have to do. “Eckhart, find your brother and run. Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back. I will meet you in Nadinda,” Rowan commanded pushing Eckhart in the direction of the horses.

The wolves were closing in; Rowan could hear their feet and the low feral growl as they prepare to attack. On his flank a man screamed, one by one the wolves charged, leaving a trail of corpses. Rowan slashed out at them, feeling his blade cutting through empty air again and again. “Where is he” He thought to himself. A horse squealed in the night and Rowan whipped around seeing his own white stallion twenty feet away, maybe less, like a ghost in the pale moonlight but where was its rider? In horror Rowan saw him, blade drawn, preparing to attack as this lycan assailant creeped closer and closer to the young girl in the grass still paralyzed by fear. Eckhart was calling to him, trying to free his horses reins and calm the frightened beast.

“Leave her alone!” Lucan shouted, his voice none to intimidating. 

“Or you’ll what? Kill me? Try it boy,” the wolf growled back, turning his attention away from Niryn. 

Lucan was afraid, he was no fighter, and yet the wolf was approaching, closing the distance fast. He clasped his blade and swung. A loud crack echoed in the night, but Lucan hadn’t felt any impact. Something glinted off the tip of his blade and when he looked up a trail of bright blue and white flames stretched out before him, engulfing the wolf. Further the lames turned red as they began eating up their surroundings, feasting and growing more and more out of control. Lucan scarily had a moment to ask what had happened, where the magic had come from when he heard the screaming. 

Eckhart was trying to make his way through the flames to where Rowan was but every step sent new flames climbing his legs, lashing out at him like a hungry animal. Helpless to do a thing as a large grey wolf , the biggest he had ever seen, spoke with Rowan, circling, waiting for the other to strike. He recognized this wolf at once, black and grey pelt, scar over his left eye. This was Moresies Panshire, beta of the northern wolves. A wolf who’s very name means killer of man. 

Something had changed the wolf’s mind, he was no longer looking at Rowan but at Eckhart himself. He wanted to run, to escape but the flames were to high, black smoke and ash smarted his eyes, there was no way out. He felt for his sword at his belt remembering a moment earlier when he had lost it, only a few feet away he could see it still sticking out of the dead man’s body blocked by a wall of fire. He considered making a run for it but he knew there was no way out and Morisies was standing now so close he could feel his breath, and smell the stench of death that came with it. Than without hesitation or mercy, pausing only to ensure Rowan was watching, Moresies struck Eckhart in the chest, ripping the still beating heart from his chest. Eckhart had just enough time to watch the heart, his heart, in Moresies hand stop beating before what little life remained left his mangled body and he died, eyes still fixed on the wolf. 

“No!!” Lucan cried out running towards where his brother had fallen but flames blocked his way, his screams drawing the wolves attention to him.

Rowan tried to speak, paralyzed by shock as he watched Eckhart die, saw the wolf advance on Lucan, watched as the wolf struck his second son. A burst of scarlet flames sent the wolf stumbling backwards as he neared Lucan. Angrily the wolf growled preparing to attack a second time.

A wolf stepped out of the trees behind Rowan, this one shorter but heavier built than Moresies was. He was half white and half black split down the center of his body with four stripes on his back. “Moresies!” The wolf shouted, his voice low and controlled.

“Samrie, I wondered when you would show up,” Moresies said turning to face the other wolf. “Come brother, put aside this fools love for these creatures and help me devour our prey.”

“Look at his eyes. He is her blood son, you’ve killed one boy today, let the other live. You may hate me for protecting them brother, but what do you think will happen once our sister hears of what you have done, when she hears that once again you have harmed her family, that you took her son's life. You should not so easily forget what happened last time?”

“What happened to Elsem was not my fault, I couldn’t stop them,” Moresies argued. Conflict racked Moresies and for a moment anger got the upper hand and he readied for an attack but Samri was right, as much as it pained him to admit, the other wolf was right. What choice did he have? Turning away so as not to see, “Take them Samri; go into the north if you must. But know this, if you go, when we meet again we are enemies.”

Moresies stalked off into the woods leaving Lucan and Rowan with Eckhart. Samri began to shift, turning human once more into a young man, his hair black with a streak of white and deep brown eyes. He was naked in his human form, his skin darker than most found this side of Merratora. “My name is Athalos, I am a friend of your wife’s. I’ve come to keep you safe.”


	2. Finnalin & Cellesteal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucan sets out on a quest, returning home upon completion to his royal castle life. Shirking his duties, Lucan finds comfort and entertainment else where, unable to conform to his responsibilities as prince

Lucan woke with a start, sweat soaking his hair as he shook off the memory. He knelt beside the river he was camped at, washing his face in the cool water. The sun had only just begun to rise, bathing the tops of the trees in light. He was tracking the legendary horses Finnalin and Cellesteal, the sun and the moon. It is said that if you catch them they will grant you one wish. They had taunted him in his dreams and now they tease him in his waking hours, always just out of reach.

Lucan undressed and stepped up to the water side, preparing to step in when he caught sight of his appearance, how he had changed since that frightful day 15 years ago. Lucan was just over six feet now and his face though still fair had gained far more definition like that if his father, thankfully making him look a little more human than in his younger years. Angrily he kicked the water, making his reflection disappear. He had once been so proud of how he looked but now since that day he could hardly stand to look at himself. He knew what they said about him in the villages and was ashamed. The burns on his back and arm stretched just up past his shirt collar in gnarled lumpy, red scars. He knew how ashamed his wife was of his disfigurement and paid well to keep it a secret, finding comfort in the arms of those who’s silence he could buy. The water soothed Lucan’s aching muscles as he steped into the river, soar from so many days of travel. The August sun had begun to fall behind the trees, it would be evening soon. He pulled on his now dry clothes and again examined his reflection once more. It was an improvement, yet no one would recognize him looking as he did, his face hidden under scruff and his chin length unkempt hair, his skin tanned.

Lucan opened his bag and emptied out the contents. Only a lump of hardtack and a flask of sour wine left, he would have to hunt soon. Oh what he wouldn't give for a piece of salted pork right then and there. Grudgingly he ate his small meal and surveyed his surroundings. Lightly the boy jumped up to a low hanging branch just above his head. Swiftly he climbed to the heart of the tree, crouching down so he was hidden in the leaves. Both horses trotted into the clearing, they didn’t see him. “What luck.” The boy thought tom himself. Patiently he waited until they wandered beneath the tree where he was waiting. This was it; he had waited for this for weeks and.... Snap! The boy’s foot slipped, knocking several leaves and small branches to the ground. The horses spooked and fled. In desperation, Lucan launched himself from his perch, missing Cellesteal by several feet. He hit the ground with a thud and wailed as his arm hit something hard; a sharp snap reverberated in his ears. Cursing he examined his arm, it was definitely broken. He grabbed the bandages from his beg and a branch, quickly splinted his arm than began to looked around for what he had hit his arm on. He saw it at once; a large metallic white rock buried half in the ground. He had never seen any natural rock like it before. With his good hand he drew his dagger and dug the rock out. Examining it more closely he noticed there were blue veins throughout it. Even stranger yet, the rock was warm. He ran his hands over the rock, it was flawless and smooth. Tentatively he picked it up. Another noise startled him. Without a second though, he than put the rock into his beg and called his horse.

A week later the boy arrived home travel beaten and sore. Aridya was the main city in the country of Nadinda. It was a city built at the base of a mountain made entirely of white stone. A large forest grew around the great wall, the king’s apple orchard that had over grown generations ago. There were few places the boy loved as much as home. As the boy road towards the gate he picked an apple from a nearby tree. The great wooden doors swung open at his arrival. The streets were crowded, it was market day. The intoxicating scent of fresh baked bread mixed with newly strewn hey wafted through the air, mixed with the pungent smell of the dyers at work. Colorful banisters hung in rows, cheery music played by traveling players drifted from open doors, almost entirely drowned out by laughter. He was home, finally home and on market day, he loved market day and he loved his people. As he rode through the streets he could hear them whisper. “Lucan’s home, the prince has returned.”

Lucan exited the town into the large courtyard of the palace. A young woman with light brown curls and a mystical face came running towards him. Her hair and dress flowed in the breeze, her silver, and velvet cloak falling in delicate folds as she ran. A silver dagger was belted at her side and a leather quiver was on her back. This was the boy’s younger sister Emeline. With the eldest brother gone, Emeline, being only 21, was the middle child of the family. Their mother was an elf of the forest Tan-Lothar, much to Lucan’s great dislike, Emeline got their mother’s grace and flawless appearance. Their mother was considered to be the most beautiful woman in all of Aridya although Emeline was a close second. Legend would tell of men who had traveled clear across the world for a short glance at her and one had even asked her for a single silver hair, which she had in turn refused. Her look was startling like that of all elves, with her narrow-angled jaw, pail skin and bright pink eyes. When Lucan’s father was still a young boy, her woodland tribe became allies with Aridya. To make the pact binding and ensure the peace, the Elven King married off his eldest daughter, Selina to Rowan, the air to Aridya’s thrown.

“You’re back!” Alenia exclaimed running towards him, flame red ringlets bouncing around her shoulders. She threw her arms around him. Lucan winced in pain but hugged her back nonetheless, a year away from home, a year since he had seen her, he had missed her more that he had words to say. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to be home?”

Alenia was Lucan’s thirteen-year-old daughter, there was nothing in this world he loved more. Like his father, Lucan had been forced to marry in order to unite the kingdoms. The princess was intended for Lucan’s eldest brother, they were on the way to meet her when Eckhart was killed. When they arrived in the northern city of Zordland it was decided that even though Faylinn was three years older and Lucan was only 11 at the time, would be a fine replacement and was taken to Nadinda to marry her in his brother’s place. It wasn’t until Alenia was born that Lucan had set on the path to becoming a prince of Arridya, a task he still struggled to fulfill`.

“Of course, I’m happy to be home. I missed you too much to stay away. You got taller, I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you little princess,” He replied. Indeed she had. Though she still reminded him so much of a little doll. Alenia, still concerned, pulled Lucan's cloak off, revealing his broken arm, eyes piercing him sternly. “I’ll be alright, it's just broken, I’ll live. Mother send the healers to my room if you would please.”

"I'll be sure to also send your wife," Selina said. "She has been very worried about you.”

Lucan was exhausted from his trip and though he wanted to join the celebrations to watch the performers what he wanted more was to sleep. In his weariness he’d hardly noticed as Alenia followed him up the stairs towards his room, slipping her slender hands into his. Tassin met him in the hall, baring Lucan from his bed with a brotherly nudge on the shoulder. His face softened for a moment as he saw how rugged Lucan looked.

“You’ll sure charm the ladies looking the way you do little brother. You may make a hunter yet, that is if you can keep from killing yourself,” Tassin teased.

Tassin had grown into a handsome man with his bright blond hair and deep blue eyes. He had a soldiers build and Lucan often wondered if Rowan wouldn’t rather have had Tassin as the royal air instead of him. Tassin was far more like Eckhart and related to Rowan where Lucan often found himself at odds with his father. Nothing he ever did was right, he was no leader, no soldier, and he certainly wasn’t a prince, often finding himself falling into old habits.

“Tassin, though I am sure you both have a great deal of catching up, my father needs rest. So if you will please excuse us, we had best be on our way,” Alenia said smoothy. She curtsied and Tassin grudgingly moved. Lucan gave her a soulful look, thankful to have her at his side. “You’ve been gone a long time papa, I am staying with you until you are better and to be sure you actually take the while to recover unlike last time.”

Althalos, was already waiting for Lucan with two other servants. A plate of food was on his table, but Lucan didn't want to eat now. Althalos helped pull Lucan’s shirt off and unwrapped the bandages from his shoulder, he hissed in annoyance at the discoloration. For a while Althalos poked around Lucan’s sides and treated the cuts before turning his attention to the bigger injuries.

“Pretty bad aren’t they,” he said, Painfully aware of Alenia staring at the burn scars down his back and shoulder. He usually kept them covered to hide their gnarled appearance. He could see the questions forming in her mind. He’d hardly spoken to her of Eckhart or of how he died. “It’s a story for another day.” At last Althalos got to Lucan’s arm, the skin around where the bone had punctured was swollen and infected.

“I am going to set you arm now. Perhaps she should wait outside?” Athalos suggested. Alenia gripped Lucan’s good arm with no intention of leaving. “Okay princess, but I would advise you look away.” Althalos snapped the bone back into place Lucan suppressed a moan trying not to show his pain as he squeezed Alenia's hand. She was so steady as always, she neither winced note made a sound and when it was done, she simply sat beside him and placed her head on his shoulder as she so often did. “You need to be more careful. Just be glad you got to me when you did or you would have to lose this arm. How did you break it this time?" He stitched the wound shut with neat, practiced stitches, than bandaged it with care. Lucan rolled his eyes, annoyed with the older man’s fussing. “You would do well to mind what I say or you may not be healthy for long. You should learn to lose that attitude as well.” He crossed the room to a table and returned with a cup which he handed to Lucan who drank it willingly. “Alenia it is time for you to go. Your father needs his rest.”

“Let her stay Althalos, long as she wants. I’ve missed her,” Lucan said. His head felt fuzzy and the cup began to slip from his fingers. Althalos eased him onto his side and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders. “I was thinking about that day, about Eckhart. I was thinking about….” And he trailed off, the world of dreams once again enticing him down into rest.

Lucan sleep right through the next day and well into the next evening. He took the stone out from his bag and examined it closely. Once he was satisfied he went to his shelf and took out several leather-bound books. Lucan looked through book after book but found nothing. Desperate, he went to his father’s room, picked the lock, and entered. He crossed the room, straight to the large wooden chest hidden almost entirely by a curtain, and knelt down. Carefully he picked this lock as well, the old chest opened with a creek. Papers and several leather-bound books, a dagger, an old blanket, maps, a woman’s shall, a bundle of letters bund by a silver ribbon, and several other various items filled this chest. Lucan removed several of them until he found what he was looking for, a large leather bound book, a journal. He replaced the contents of the chest and tucked the book under his shirt. Once he got back into his room he examined the book. There was nothing special about the book, the red leather was cracked and dirty, the pages yellowed, and the title had long ago faded to a few small lines. Inside the book the writing was uneven and plain. The high pitched ringing of the dinner bell startled Lucan and he quickly hid the book.

Lucan looked out his window at the dimming sky, sure enough evening had come and the castle was once again full of boisterous laughter. Lucan loved dinnertime; he could sit and listen to the war Lords talk about current news, wars and horses. Lucan longed for adventure, to see the wide world,. Lucan wanted to write his name on every inch of Merratora. This night was particularly festive. In the morning all the fresh young men would be sent to war. The draft had come swiftly; boys ten and older must fight. Some came willingly; others tried to fight the draft. Now with war throughout all of Merratora and the armies spread thin it was time for the new draftees to be shipped out. But for this night all the men feasted and partied, dallying with the young women, celebrating their last days as boys. If and when they came home, they would be men.

“Don’t be so quick to ride into that sunset little brother,” Tassin said slapping Lucan on the back. “Battle is not all victories and brilliant charges, not all about courage or heroism. Killing is no grand thing Lucan. It changes a man. Battle can be terrifying, I envy you. You get to stay here and make love to women, drink yourself silly and enjoy life.”

“You are a terrible influence. You know that right?” Lucan asked.

“Oh yes, of that I am aware. But remember you are to be at the council in the morning so no running off. If I have to go looking for you….” Tassin started, he was cut off by Faylinn who curtsies to Lucan before joining him at his side.

She was thin and elegantly formed with bright red hair, pale skin and pale pink eyes. But no matter how hard Lucan tried, he couldn’t love her. At the bottom of the grand staircase now Lucan waited for his wife, who promptly appeared matching his outfit perfectly and just as they were about to enter the ballroom Alenia appeared at the top of the stairs in an elegant ball gown, her hair hanging in perfect curls arranged neatly under her tiarre, illuminating her lilac eyes. Tonight, Alenia was her mother in miniature.

“Her first ball. She wanted to wait until you were home,” Faylinn explained. “Our little girl is all grown up. Soon she will be married and far away. How the time does fly. Isn’t she perfect Lucan?”

“Yes, she is,” He agreed. “But let’s not go marrying her off just yet. Let her stay young just a little longer, a little princess. She is not yet fourteen, still a very tender age for marriage, though we were so young when we were I suppose.” Alenia reached the bottom of the stairs and with a warm smile Lucan took her on his arm and escorted her into the ballroom, Faylinn following behind escorted by Tassin.

Emeline danced from one man to another until she grew incredibly board with them, wishing ever more that Quaren where there and knowing he couldn't be. And yet she could have sworn she’d seen his face amidst the crowd. She crossed the room, searching for him. A hand reached out and grabbed her, pulling her behind a curtain onto the balcony. Emeline screamed but a large hand covered her mouth, she struggled against the embrace until she turned, her eyes falling on Quaren.

“Shh, Emie its me,” He whispered. He was wearing a tunic in the green and silver of a Tan-Lothar soldier. He looked very handsome in his uniform and Emeline almost didn’t recognize him.

“Quaren you shouldn’t be here!" Emeline hissed. Quaren gave her a playful smile and she couldn’t help but blush. He was so beautiful; he hardly looked real to her. He was bigger now than when she had last seen him, she could feel the muscles shift beneath her figures as they danced. She brushed the silvery white hair from his face. She loved his eyes; purple like two amethysts set into his ageless face, and softer than any she had ever seen. She knew they would never be the same once he was shipped to war. He held her face between his warm hands kissing her, softly pressing her back to the cool stone. She tried to push him away. “No, some one could see.”

“Than let them see. I don’t care,” Quaren whispered kissing her again. Emeline couldn’t help but give in, her heart pounding out or her chest.

“Quaren please. If my father finds out…. I am to marry now. If they see us…,” Emeline protested. Hot tears rolled down Emeline’s face and on to Quaren’s shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go. You are no soldier Quaren. You will never be the same again if… if you return. I can’t lose you.” 

“Then you won’t lose me, I simply won’t let them kill me. And when I return I will take you away from here,” Quaren promised. For a moment, he became lost in every detail of her face. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small box from his pocket, and handed it to Emeline. Inside the box was a silver pendant in the shape of a heart with a jeweled rose set into it. Around the chain, small dainty little charms hung, shimmering in the candle light. “I was planning to give this to you upon my return. Take this as a reminder of my promise. Emeline I promise that I will love you forever and always come home, no matter what.”

“Quaren I can’t accept this,” Emeline said. She looked guiltily back at him, tears welling in her eyes. There is no way. My father has promised me to Lord Baldwin. I don’t want to marry him, but I have no choice. You know that Quaren. I’m to be wed before he and his men are shipped out.” Emeline paused. His face holding a question he was too afraid to ask. “One last night together my love, than…”

“We must never speak again.” Quaren was very sad at this. “You will marry lord Baldwin and break my heart and there is nothing I can do. On that day you will belong to him and I will let you go. But please for this moment, just for tonight I want you to be mine.”

Quaren lead Emeline into the castle gardens. It was a perfect night. A cool breeze rustled the trees; fairies flitted around the plants chattering happily. The moon and stars were reflected in the little pond, the image shimmering as the water lapped lightly. Flowers of every kind grew in the garden, some were brightly colored, some emitted a light blue light, some slept only to waked and reveal their beauty in the morning.

Quaren stayed silent for a moment lost in thought, than he smiled at her as if that alone would shake off the ghosts. “I remember the first time I came to this city. I heard a young girl singing, you, you always had the most beautiful voice. I would climb the tall trees every day to look over the wall into this garden and listed to you sing.”

“I have a confession, I saw you siting in that tree that first day, I secretly dreamed about you. I would go to the garden every day just to see you. To think, if that branch hadn’t broken we may never have met,” Emeline said blushing.

“Your mother took pity on me and offered me a job and bringing me closer to you. If I’d only known than that the job she’d given me would one day be the very thing that would take me away from you. I never would have taken it,” Quaren said.

They walked silently through the rows of plants and flowers, the shadow of the words they left unspoken growing darker, hanging heavily on their hearts. “If I’d known that the job she’d given me would one day lead to my death.” Emeline could see the words on his lips; and see the same fear that poisoned her heart reflected in his eyes. A tear ran down her face, he wiped it away with his sleeve.

“Emeline!” Tassin called. He entered the garden stopping abruptly when he saw Emeline and Quaren. “Father was looking for you.” Emeline silently pleaded with him and Tassin couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. He knew how she felt, she had the same look on her face as his wife had the last time he’d seen her. She died before he’d even come home and Tassin would have given anything to spend just one more day with her. “Go, quickly. I’ll tell him you went walking in the wood; it will give you some time.” Emeline turned to Tassin one more time; he pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “I will do what I can for him Emie but I can’t make you any promises. I will try to get him a place in the reserve but at the most I may only be able to delay his departure. Take care that he is gone by sunrise or they will find him. You know the penalty for deserters and traitors.”

Yes Emeline knew the penalty, she had seen many executions. Uttering hurried thanks she led Quaren away, keeping to the shadows so they wouldn’t be seen. Tassin shook his head disapprovingly after Emeline then returned to the ball. Lucan was nowhere to be found and he was about to go looking for his brother when Faylinn approached him, slipping a drink into his hands.

“So I see my husband has once again vanished,” She said, not at all shocked by this nor disturbed. “Well he is young I suppose, how am I to compete with these youths he so enjoys? He hardly even sees me these days. No matter.”

“Faylinn though I understand your state I do not think I am the best person to be talking about this. If you would excuse me….,” Tassin replied feeling uncomfortable with the situation. He tried to excuse himself but Faylinn again stopped him. She was looking at Alenia who was talking with a young boy of similar age. Though he clearly has raised with the proper mannerisms his clothing gave away his stature. She didn’t like how he was smiling at her or how she in turn seamed to like him in return.

“Tassin who is that boy?” Faylinn asked.

“Martise, Lucan’s squire,” Tassin replied. “Its just young love Faylinn, let it go. Alenia is a smart girl, she knows the rules. Now if you will excuse me I am going to find your husband.”

Tassin knew that wasn’t the last he would hear of Alenia and this boy but he had more important things to worry about with Emeline off with Quaren and Lucan god knows where. Tassin knew if Rowan found out he’d lost track of the crown prince yet again there would be hell to pay. He would handle Alenia later once Lucan had been found. Tassin set out asking all who he could trust about Lucan’s where abouts, searching well into the night, long after the ball had ended with no luck and only a few hours left until dawn.

~ * ~

Lucan woke slowly, groaning, his head was throbbing and he felt sick. He sat up, something didn’t seem right, where was he? The room was small and dank, the bed lumpy, a musty smell oozed from everything around him. Looking around the small room Lucan jumped, shocked when his eyes fell on Tassin who was sitting in the corner.

“Hurts doesn't it?” Tassin asked. “That’s what you get for drinking yourself into black. Do you even remember what you did last night?” He watched Lucan sternly from over his pipe, the little puffs of smoke partly obscuring his face. He put it out and rose from his chair, tossing a bundle of cloths at Lucan who caught them, a look of distain on his face as he rolled out of bed rubbing his eyes and head.

Lucan pulled on his cloths and crossed over to the wash basin. “Where is she?” He asked, tossing the cool water onto his face and neck before pulling on his shirt. “The girl I had here last night. There was a girl I assume?”

“Yes there was a girl and she’s gone now, left shortly after I arrive. Still keeping with your type I see. What did this one cost you?” Tassin asked.”

“I don’t pay, you know that,” Lucan replied pulling on his boots and stalking out of the run-down bar, the bright sunlight blinding him. “Why did you wake me? What would be the harm in letting me sleep the day?”

“Come on we need to get you cleaned up, the council has already gathered, your absence will be noticed and your father will not be happy,” Tassin said. Lucan didn’t move, frozen in place, staring into the distance. Tassin clasped him around the shoulder dragging him towards the castle. “I don’t want to go any more than you do. Lucan forget about that girl. Royals don’t marry for love, you know that. That is the reason for Emeline’s wedding, she knows the importance of this alliance with Baldwin. Two days from now she will swallow her pride and marry him. Just as you will swallow your pride, put on your robes and play the part you were born into.”

“If I have to go you're coming to,” Lucan stated. He hated the council meetings and dreaded the trek down to the war room.


	3. The Last Night Before the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan meets with his council as the young men of Merratora go to war

The sun rose early the next morning, welcoming a new day. But it was not a happy morning. Women cried in the streets for men who had left before they had woken, others cried for men now leaving. An evil was growing in Merratora for the first time in a thousand years. The prophecy set down long ago when Nazorack, a dragon and rider gone bad that once ruled Merratora, lingered in the back of Rowan’s mind. He had been watching the stars and they spoke of one thing, the day of reckoning is coming. The Great War would soon be upon them and they did not yet have a leader. The prophecy spoke of a boy astride a white dragon who would unite the people and vanquish the darkness.

Rowan stood on his balcony looking down into the courtyard where the boy still lay, mangled. He hatted executions and public displays but it was necessary to keep the peace. The boy had talked only to him, told him what he knew of Nazithol’s plans. The Black King had found a way to take over the bodies of others if only for a short time. As soon as he entered them the bodies would begin to decay, he needed a stronger body, one created from not only flesh and blood but also out of black magic. Rowan thought of Emeline and Willow, magic flowed in their veins. Rowan’s entire line was descended from Ingathol the stargazer, wisest of all the riders and cousin of Mortallion, the First Dragon King. What most family trees wont say how ever is that Ingathol was the twin brother of Torick, the rider who turned evil and together with his dragon became Nazorack. Ingathol had turned down the crown when it was offered to him and with no son to take the crown it was passed onto his younger brother, Theobrant. Ingathol’s eldest daughter died very young leaving behind her two sons and his youngest daughter was married to Theobrant’s son. Rowan’s thoughts trailed to Lucan, how long until he was called? If the dragon king was found, Lucan would almost certainly become a rider.

Selina came up behind Rowan, rubbing his shoulders. She laid her head on his shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. “Where are you my love, you seem so distant. What is troubling you?”

“Too many things,” He smiled lovingly at her, took her hand and kissed it. He could see she was not prepared to let him brush her off so easily and his face darkened. “Dark times are coming Bell, terrible times. I had hoped I would not live to see these days return but history will soon repeat itself. Here I am powerless to do anything about it.”

“You are a good king my love, you always do what is best for your people. They love you and they will follow you in whatever you may decide,” Selina said.

“Oh Selina, if only you could understand. How can I send their sons to war while mine stay home? How can I condemn their husbands, brothers, fathers, and sons to war while I sit here in comfort?” Rowan asked, more to himself than to her. “If my men march out I must go with them.”

“Rowan no! You were a good fighter in your day but your health is not what it once was, you can hardly walk. You cannot fight. I won’t let you fight. You have done enough Rowan. You have already given them your life; you don’t need to die for them as well,” Selina looked so pleadingly at Rowan, he didn’t know what to say so he kissed her. “I envy them you know, all those people you serve. I envy their freedom. I would give anything to simply be able to grow old with you and not have to worry about mannerisms, status, or whether or not you will be coming home to me when they day has ended.”

“Then you really do love me,” Rowan stated. Selina smiled coyly back at him, blushing slightly. “That is good. It heartens me to know there is hope, that I am not offering my daughters a prison sentence. Both girls married in the same day, a father couldn’t be more proud. I love you Bell, there is no one I would rather have at my side.”

“Emeline will make a lovely bride but Willow is still to young Rowan, she is only now just turned ten. Why must you marry her away to, why not wait a year?” Selina asked.

“Because Selina, the lords wished to be married before they went away to war and Willow’s engagement has been decided since the day she was born. Ten is a right age for a girl to be married, you were younger when we were wed. Do you regret…,” The look on Selina’s face broke Rowan’s heart, he didn’t want to hear her answer though he already knew it. “I see. She will be happy; she has eyes only for him. Xyga is a good man; he will take good care of her.”

“What if he dies Rowan? She will be a widow. Do you really want to put our daughter through that?” Selina asked.

Rowan paused a moment slipping once again into thought. “This war won’t only affect us, but our son as well. He is descended from a rider, I am almost certain he will be called to fight. Lucan is no fighter, war will break him.”

“Then teach him. Rider or not Lucan will have to fight; I do not want to burry another son. So you will have to make a fighter out of him, train him Rowan,” Selina said.

“I will train him. But death is a ravenous beast that not even the best trained blade and keep at bay once it’s laid eyes on its prey. Much will be lost once the hammer falls,” Rowan said. His face dark, and thoughtful but also full of fear for those he loved. He had seen far too much of war and what it did to young men. Even if Lucan did come home he would be changed, but he did not tell her this. Instead Rowan allowed himself to be led inside by Selina. “I must meet the council.”

The walk to the council chamber felt longer this morning that it had on others, Rowan’s footsteps echoing along the endless empty corridors. These lords expected Rowan to order and attack on the black lands; they wanted him to lead them to victory. But Rowan had seen the dragon wars, he had seen the damage the Dark King could conjure and he knew how foolish and open charge would be without the dragon riders. The riders and their had not been seen since the war had ended. It was widely believed none had survived, Rowan himself had lost his beloved Dragon in battle and narrowly escaped with his life. They needed a leader to rally the riders, and they needed to draw The Dark King out of his black lands, or so the prophecy foretold. As he entered the chamber the War Lords were already arguing.

“Settoma is in ashes and lies now in ruin. The Dark king sent his hound Arikazan to my lands. I saw his men drag women and children out into the streets and threw the babies from the city walls," Gracien shouted. “I ordered a retreat but it was too late. I was only able to save a handful of my people and you would do nothing?”

“Our cities are running out of provisions. Those who survive the raids are sure to die soon of starvation,” Braygar said. “We are unable to open our doors to any more people.”

"Surra has been overrun by legions of the black lands. My armies are almost all dead or captured," Gordian said. "Our people are dying Rowan. We need help! And I can’t help but notice the absence of your son." Rowan sat in his throne, hand on his brow. He looked wearily to Lucan’s empty seat. “Our people are dying and you can’t even keep your own son in line . How can we trust you to help us? The only chance we have is to attack Nazithol on his front door.”

No one had seen Lucan slip in the door and as he heard Gordian speak he felt small, doubt winning over in his mind. They were right, he was no prince, he would never be a great king. He wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He instead took his seat silently, avoiding his fathers disappointed gaze. Tassin stepped up to the dais to address the council.

“All of you,” Tassin shouted. He descended down a few steps from the dais. “All of you will die if this is the course you have chosen. If you are all fools enough to attack the Dark King on his doorstep than do so, but you do so on your own. We leave our own borders unguarded as it is with all the men we have sent to your aid.”

“And yet our people suffer. When we became allies we swore to protect you, we only ask you do the same,” Drinnian said, trying to sound reasonable.

“What would you have us do? As we speak more young men, men who have never so much as touched a blade, are on their way to camps spread throughout Merratora where they will become soldiers,” Tassin replied. He could feel his anger building like an animal waiting to consume him.

“You would dare speak to us?” Braygar retorted angrily turning his rage to Rowan. “You would let your bastard address us while you son lies with whores, takes off in the night and sits silent before us? No, I will not accept this insult.”

“What about Ralith? What about my people?" Zantar asked. "We are cut off completely. We are an island without any functioning ships and poisoned water. Our people are dying. For years, we have fought at your side Rowan. Where are your armies now?

“A ragtag bunch of gypsies, criminals and refugees, no one cares about your people. Your people are expendable. But New Haven, Ralith, Terrack, Ollrrock and all the other cities this side of the great waters? You are cut off yes but that will be your salvation,” Verell stated.

Rowan raised a weary hand and the chamber once again fell silent. He stood to address the council. “Long ago, at the dawn of time all races were one, united under one man, a sorcerer. He found a way to prolong his life and made this world what it is today. But even the greatest most powerful men must die and with his last breath Don- Rhuzha granted each of his sons a single wish. Fannowin, the eldest wished for money and power, so the great sorcerer gave him and several of his people great strength and a kingdom under the mountain. There he learned metal work and mining; his line began to grow shorter and shorter, becoming the race known as the dwarves. The second son Arentillies wished for the gift of flight, to rule from the sky yet be able to walk on land. So the sorcerer granted his son and a handful of his people wings and a Kingdome high in the clouds. Overtime they became tall, their ears pointed, their hair a light blue and their skin thicker and stronger, becoming the race we know as the Saytalin Elves. The third son Ionnie wished only to be given care of the forests and live long as to watch the trees grow and guard over those who cannot speak. So the great sorcerer granted him and his people long life, grace, agility, keen sight, hearing and the ability to communicate with the wildlife. Thus they became the elves. Over time some of his people travel to the mountains with his eldest son and built their home there. The last son Gildafell asked only that he be granted a long life with the woman he loved best. He asked that his line live long and be prosperous. This worried Don- Ruzha for he knew what man could do so Gildafell made a promise to protect and watch over man. So he selected 12 lords to aid him.”

“Yes Rowan we know the story,” Verell groaned.

“I have heard your worries and I have listened to your long winded stories. Now hear me. Peace, I bag you listen.” Rowan paused a moment, wearily looking around the chamber. He took a deep breath and prepared to continue speaking. “It breaks my heart to see our people suffering but understand I am doing all that I can. The day for revenge is coming; but this is not yet the time for war. Long the kings ruled in harmony, now that union is broken. We must unite the races of Merratora and bide our time. If we strike now we will fail.”

“There is much more to worry about. The gray spots on the map, the spots marking Nazithol’s lands are growing. More and more of Merratora has died due to Nazithol, the black sands have grown. They creep closer, closing in around us. We dare not leave or sail anywhere out of fear for the monsters and the rapid waters Nazithol has set around our lands. Our ships would be dashed to pieces on the rocks,” Oddyon said.

“I agree with Rowan,” Dorgon took a deep breath, speaking slowly, holding all who heard him on every word. They had all been waiting to hear him speak. Lord of Chasar, second largest city in Nadinda, he had become its ruler after his father was killed in the dragon wars. “The prophecy has guided us this far, it would not be wise to abandon it so easily. We must wait for the dragon king.” A low murmur filled the council hall. Dorgon was a balky man and tall. He was younger than Rowan, clearly, his hair deep brown and face less worn. He left side of his face was distorted from where the dragon who had killed his father had wounded him long ago, a white eye made of glass replacing what he had lost.

The council continued for another hour until all were too exhausted to continue arguing. At long last the men dispersed slowly at first, lingering to exchange pleasantries until the hall was empty. Lucan tried to slip out but Rowan stopped him. He sunk back down in his chair still refusing to look Rowan in the eye. It felt like eternity before Rowan spoke.

“Have you nothing to say to me? Lucan look at me when I am speaking to you!” Rowan said slapping has hand down hard on the table making Lucan jump. Lucan remained silent, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt. “Lucan you are to old to be behaving this way, I won’t be around forever and some day you will have to be a king.”

“Yes, exactly father, someday. I am no king, I was never meant to be a king yet here we stand. You expect to much from me, surly Tassin….” Lucan was cut off. Of course, he knew his father's reply long before Rowan uttered it. Though he would have preferred Tassin as his blood air he was a bastard and could never sit upon the throne. “Father I know I am not the son you wanted but I am trying, I know you wish I had died that day in his place. I think of him all the time, if I could wash the memory of his death away I would. If I could be like him….”

Rowan sighed deeply as he contemplated what Lucan had said. “No, you’re not the one I thought would succeed me, but there has not been a single day I wished you'd died in his place. What happened that day…. Your brother was brave and strong, he had a good head about him but you have qualities he didn’t, qualities that if used right will make you a better king than he ever could be. You’re my boy and I’ll love you for who you are not for who he was. Walk tall my son and you will make me proud.”

Rowan grasped Lucan’s shoulder, squeezing it as he passed him by to exit the chamber. Lucan sat in silence for long time, thinking about all that had happened and thinking back to the stone he had found. He felt drawn to the stone as if it were calling to him and he knew he had to figure it out, fast. He knew if he did, his life would never be the same again.


	4. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess are married, a celebration to distract from to horrors of war

A soft summer breeze blew through the trees this morning; birds were singing, announcing to everyone the happy and joyous day ahead. Rowan stood outside on the grand balcony as he had so many mornings before, overlooking the preparations. Selina joined him, smiling at him and he could tell she was remembering the day they themselves were married. He had not loved her at first. But obligation turned to respect and respect had turned to pure love.

Inside, the castle buzzed with excitement as decorations were hung from every beam. The ballroom had never looked more wonderful full of fresh flower petals and white drapery hung from every window. They would hold the wedding outside in the courtyard where all their people could see. A alter, woven from fallen branches of the silver trees that grew around the castle, had been set up on the dais. Food would be handed out to every family in the castle in celebration of the new union while inside the ballroom a great party would be held for the lords and royals.

Outside, near the kitchen two tables were set up where several women stood needing bread, not far away a hog was roasting on a spit, beside it roasted numerous birds of all kinds. The odors set about from the wedding feast were intoxicating and sickeningly thick, a mélange of freshly cooked vegetables added to the mix. The sweet smell of fruit, the bitter smell of old wine and ail, the delicious smell of fresh bread mingled all together with the rich, mouthwatering sent of roasting meet over a fire.

Strolling players filled the streets, performing on every corner. A few of the fire-eaters that had come were busy making decorations of ice fire in every imaginable color. Red and blue birds flew on fiery wings through oceans of brightly colored flowers. Willow giggled as a tiny butterfly landed on her, tickling her with is translucent wings. Willow, Lucan's youngest sister was about Alenia's age and so similar in appearance they were often mistaken for each other with their bright red hair and slender build. 

Willows nanny swatted the butterfly away, scolding her to get back up stairs. She blushed as she passed Xyga. They were to be married today, alongside Emeline and Baldwin. She’d been in love with Xyga since the first day she’d laid eyes on him. 

Xyga’s elfin heritage had made him extraordinarily handsome with his silver hair that fell about him effortlessly, and blue eyes so pale they were almost white. He was chilling to look at though his face was not unkind. He had stolen the hearts of every young lady in Ariddya and Willow was no exception, not at all understanding that Xyga’s heart belonged to the eldest daughter. He would be a good husband but every time he looked at her he saw only a child and it disturbed him to think of the night ahead. Yet she was very beautiful, his father had chosen his bride well. 

Not far off three maids stood at a table kneading bread. The two younger girls, one about 12 the other a few years older, whispered under their breath, turned away from the older maid, as to hide their conversation.

“He looks nervous,” one maid said, her accent as foreign as her appearance.

“Perhaps he’s afraid his sword will fall in the battle. Though I don’t see that Xyga having any trouble, he’s a handsome one he is,” A younger maid said with a chuckle. She slammed the lump of dough down a little too hard in her excitement catching the oldest maid’s attention.

“Come now Lila,” The older maid scolded. “Let’s not have talk like that. The Lord Baldwin and Lord Xyga are good and virtues men.”

“I hear of many things that go on in this castle. I hear whispers of a scandal,” Marie said ignoring the older woman and leaning in to her companion. The older woman scowled at them and sprinkled some flower on the girl’s doe. “Her maid says for weeks now she's been sneaking off to meet one of the queen’s guards.”

“One more word and I will have you both punished with a wooden spoon and your mouths washed out with soap. Now be silent, here comes Prince Lucan and Tassin. I will not have you insulting him or his kin,” the older woman warned.

“So, he didn’t even yell?” Tassin asked.

“No, he just started trailing off as if deep in thought. He speaks of dragons and of magic as if they were real, as if they were something deeply personal to him,” Lucan replied.

“You know as well as I dragons and magic are real and very dangerous,” Tassin asked. “Your mother was there during the last dragon age, ask her if you don’t believe me. Listen I know that look, I told you what I know now leave it be.” Lucan agreed, though he had no intention of obeying this order. Relieved, Tassin nodded to the younger maids as he passed and Lucan did likewise, following his lead. Once they had passed by, Lila and Marie began to giggle, talking quietly together in high-pitched voices. 

The smells and sounds of the preparations nauseated Emeline. She couldn’t understand why Willow was so excited. Then again Xyga was not an old man, older yes, but still in his youth. Baldwin was a fat, aging man; his hair had turned long ago. His skin was rough and weather beaten. Though he had once been a handsome man, old age had stolen his features replacing them with shadows. She feared the night to come and every night that would follow once he returned from war. She wished upon wish that he would die at war. She dreamed night and day of another world in which Quaren were a Lord and came to save her.. She hoped this would work, she hoped this would save him. If Rowan found out about her affair with Quaren he would have him killed for treason.

Before long a bell rang out signaling the start of the ceremonies. Both Xyga and Baldwin were standing before the altar. Rowan was leading Willow and Emeline towards them. Willow was resigned and respectful of her father’s wishes, she would find happiness. But Emeline felt like a slave led to auction, a lamb to slaughter, a prisoner to their death. They reached the altar and Emeline felt as if her life had been ended as abruptly as an executioner's stroke. The minstrels played traditional wedding songs and the guests began singing to a few of them. The whole kingdom was there, standing on the outskirts of the fields, will the nobles and Lords sat in the seats. Emeline looked nervously from her father, to her soon to be husband, to her mother than back to Baldwin.

Emeline glanced over to where lines of guards stood. All the soldiers had been welcomed in but had to watch from afar. Emeline searched the faces for Quaren but didn’t find him. She thought she saw something move from behind the shadows but she couldn’t see any one. At last it was finished. The guests were seated at tables, the food was brought out, the band was struck up and the dancing commenced in the great hall. Emeline avoided the crowd, staying on the edge of the dancing.

Something moved behind one of the curtains and she hurried off hoping to find. Quaren. He was wearing a cream colored shirt over his leather pants, tied down with his belt and sword, over his shoulders draped his cloak. His eyes were a little red as he glanced back at her and for a moment their eyes met. But she blinked and he was gone. Emeline ran after him, searching for one last look at him but he was nowhere to be found. A white rose lay in the middle of the marbled floor, she picked it up, a tear rolling down her face.

“Never let them see you cry,” Tassin said coming up beside her. “He is gone Emeline. All he wanted was one last look at you to remember you by. It would have been too hard for you both to speak now, better for him to simply slip away in the night. He will accompany your husband in battle; I have had him re assigned to Baldwin’s personal guard. He shouldn’t see too much of battle that way. It means he will live Emie but you have to forget about him now. So dry your eyes, your husband is looking for you.”

Emeline took the handkerchief from Tassin’s outstretched hand and dried her eyes. Bravely she picked herself up, crossed the great hall and sat down beside Baldwin. He leaned over to her, stroking her fair hair. His breath smelt heavy with drink, his words slurred.

“You look tired my love,” Baldwin whispered to Emeline. “Perhaps you should go to bed. Your sister left hours ago, I will join you shortly.”

Emeline nodded and excused herself from the table. Her heart was numb now, separated from herself. Quaren hadn’t even come to say good bye, he had only come to look at her. Not even considering if she might want to see him one last time or not, had she not see him she’d never have even known Quaren was there. She thought one last time of the nights she had spent with Quaren. It was nothing but a memory now, one that Baldwin would certainly destroy. Yet to her great relief when Baldwin finally came to bed he passed out beside her, not laying so much as a finger on her.

Lucan to had left the party, though he could still hear it continuing on through the floors bellow. He sat alone in his room at his desk, books and papers were stacked everywhere. Rowan had recently pulled Lucan aside stating to him that he was to begin lessons on war tactics, he was to learn to joust, to fight and to ride better. The result of these lessons now lay scattered amidst the usual clutter that normal covered the desk. Lucan had always thought himself a fine rider and good in the joust though he had never really competed. When Lucan had asked why he was to take these lessons Rowan had brushed him off with some comment about all princes needing to know these things. So, know he spent his nights poring over books, maps, family records and such only to be quizzed on them the next morning and dragged out to the practicing ring for training. He was stuck in the castle studying while his friends were out making history. Even Baldwin and Xyga would leave in the morning for war. Lucan would have given anything to be there with them.

Yawning for now the seventh time that night Lucan decided it was time to close the books and go to bed, he would explain to his father in the morning why his work wasn’t finished. The nights were starting to get colder, it would be winter soon. The wind battered against his shutters blowing out the candle on his bed side table. Almost hidden by the wind, Lucan could hear a light cracking sound, immediately and with out knowing why, he thought of the stone. Lucan knocked several books and papers onto the floor as he searched for the flint to relight his candle. By the time, he found it the cracking had stopped. He approached the place where he’d hidden the stone and brought the candle near.

A small lopsided creature lay in the middle of the shimmering shards of what he now knew to be an egg. The creature was mostly white with a bit of blue, one gold horn stuck straight up from its head, two smaller silver horns sat on either side of it, blunt and hard to see. From head to tail it was about the size of a small cat, each of its wings were almost the same size as the rest of its body. The small creature tried to walk but it kept tripping over them. It snuffled around, clearly interested in Lucan. He reached out tentatively and stroked the smooth scales. Instantly a surge of energy burst through his entire body and he could feel something burning on his chest. He fell back, stunned, holding the place where it burned. He tried to sit up and look but couldn’t. He could feel something entering his mind, it felt strange and foreign, he tried to push it out but the presence was too strong. Slowly the world around him blurred and he felt himself falling as his vision faded to black.

When Lucan woke the next morning, the sun had only just begun to come over the city walls. He was still lying on the floor; he couldn’t at first figure out why. But then he heard the snuffling and felt tinny claws at his side. The strange creature had curled up beside him and was now looking at him curiously with the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen. He sat up slowly feeling the burn on his chest. He lifted his shirt to see a burn like a dragon over his heart; it burned red hot as if someone had lit a fire in his skin. He lay back down, breathing heavily from the pain. The little creature slinked over his torso and licked the burn, Lucan had expected it to hurt but instead he felt ice spread over the burn and the pain dissipate. He sat up, this time with ease and stared at the little creature. A lump appeared in Lucan’s throat as he recognised what this creature was, a dragon. The little dragon tilted its head, spreading its wings and stepping side to side. Clearly frustrated at Lucan’s lack of understanding. The creature finally gave up, snorting in derision before curling up into a ball, back to Lucan. “Offaly small for a dragon, aren't you?” The little dragon hissed in annoyance turning even further from Lucan. All at once everything Tassin had told him made sense as the gravity of the situation set in


	5. News From The Front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word comes from the front lines as the fate of Emeline true love is discovered. How far will she go to be with the man she desires

As weeks turned into months the little dragon kept growing, now the size of a large dog it had become rather hard to hide. More over with things constantly disappearing from the kitchens, chickens, pieces of meat, etc, the maid had begun to spread superstition. They believed a beast had come to the castle, they weren't wrong. Lucan had had to take the dragon into the woods. An old ruin of a mill, hidden by over grown brush and moss lay nestled deep in the forest the grew near the castle. There the dragon had shelter and could be safe. To Lucans surprise, despite the dragons rapidly growing size, she had yet to take flight. He had tried a few times to get her to take flight, but the little dragon simply bounced along getting no more than a few feet off the ground. There was very little on dragon lore as many of the scrolls were burned around the time of their disappearance.

Lucan sat in the tall grass, a sketch book on his lap. The dragon lay curled up beside Lucan, placing its head in his lap and purring not unlike a cat. Something moved nearby making the dragon jump hurriedly into the bushes startling Lucan. He raised his hands in defence as he fell backwards, startled even more to find that silvery blue flames had erupted from his figure tips and now burned, fizzing out to ashes in the grass. The little dragon returned, tilting its head at Lucan in confusion, she did not seam at all surprised by what had happened and simply returned to her place on his lap.

“Did you do that?” Lucan asked. He felt something, or perhaps had only imagined it, in the back of his mind almost like a presence, a faint whisper, inaudible, as it reached out to him.

Not far off a horse whinnied. The little dragon shot up knocking Lucan backwards, taking up what Lucan assumed was its attack stance. Lucan chuckled, at the sight, how funny she looked trying to be all tough. He rose from the ground and started to climb a tree, scaling the branches with ease. The horses had belonged to Emeline and Alenia who were walking down a nearby path. The two often walked together in this manor talking in hushed tones confiding in each other all they could not speak to anyone else. Lucan jumped down from the tree, mounting his horse and galloping off towards where the girls were walking, stopping dead in front of Emeline, making her scream.

“Reckless as usual, you know what Athalos told you papa,” Alenia scolded.

Lucan was about to make a joke in response when he saw Emeline watching him closely, he already knew what she wanted to ask him. Sighing he dismounted. “I'm not the soldier of the family Emeline. You know that. Father doesn't tell me much of the war, perhaps you should ask him,” Lucan insisted. This was not entirely true. Lucan did know about the war and its goings on but not from Rowan, instead from the letters he received from Tassin. Reinforcements were requested so Tassin had marched out a little over two months ago, taking a battalion with him to aid in the battle of Riving. He wanted to leave, realizing his mistake but Emeline was still clinging to his arm. I haven’t heard anything about Quaren. Perhaps it would be more proper for you to worry about the safety of your own husband or brother. Tassin is alive and well not that you seam at all concerned.” A young boy road up on a shaggy pony breaking the tension.he smiled warmly at Alenia

“My Lord Lucan!” a young boy called. Emeline looked at the boy nervously than at Lucan.

“Emeline that’s Marties. He is my new squire. What is it Marties?” Lucan replied. The boy handed Lucan a letter. Lucan took it out and began to read. “We have to get back, now!” Emeline protested. “Tassin has just returned, he’s been hurt. Martise take Alenia home.”

Emeline followed Lucan as they hurried down the hall; Willow came to though she did not seem as concerned. She had never been sure what to think of Tassin. She like him well enough but he was a black mark on their family name. Tassin was being treated in his own room, he lay on his bed while several physicians and healers dressed in a ghostly white bustled around him. By the time, Emeline and Lucan arrived they had almost finished. Emeline saw the bloody clothing lying in a heap; saw the blood in the water and on the bandages. The blanket was pulled up to Tassin’s chest but Emeline could see the bandages across his shoulder and down his arm. His head was bandaged; several cuts covered his face, a large bruise stretched down his face and neck. Lucan dismissed the physicians and Emeline sat down on the bed.

Tassin smiled at her wearily. Emeline went to place a hand on his arm but fell right through to the bed. Startled she pulled back the blanket and was horrified; his left arm from his elbow down was gone. She back up bumping into Lucan who likewise was speechless. “It was one of the Black king’s hounds, as big as a horse, eyes as red as the fires of hell and teeth as sharp as daggers. I thought I had it, but before I could land the killing blow, the beast took my arm. I passed out shortly after getting on the boat. When I woke up I was here, I called for you both right away. I bring news from the front,” Tassin said. “Emeline, come sit with me a while.” Lucan pulled up a chair so that he two was sitting beside the bed. “A few months ago, we received word from Surra; Lord Baldwin never reached his check point. That is why I marched out with my men, to find and help them if I could. We never even made it half way, their bodies were found scattered near the field of Burtoriack. We got the survivors to a camp near Surra than joined the battle at the front. We defeated the pack of hounds but not without great casualties. Those who lived were put on a ship and sent here, those who died were burned on the field. Only a few made the trip home. Emeline, Baldwin is dead. He died well, you should be proud to bear his name.”

“I hardly knew him,” Emeline stated. Tassin looked pityingly at her, unsure how to comfort her; she was no longer a child. “What of Quaren?”

“Quaren was sent with a few men to aid Lord Verell at Surra so he never saw the battle at Riving. Quaren took an arrow in the shoulder a few days before I joined in the fight,” Tassin said. He saw how sad she was and his face softened a moment as he tried to find the right words to say. “Quaren might still be alive. Do not be so quick to dig his grave. I will inquire once I am well again.”

“Come Emeline, you should rest,” Lucan suggested, at first she protested but realizing she stood no chance she gave in

The month of mourning passed by and though it had only been a few weeks Emeline had grown sick of the black dresses she had to wear that most days she just stayed in her room. She took out the necklace from Quaren and put it on. It went surprisingly well with the dress she was wearing, than again anything could have improved the look of this one. She was consumed with thoughts of Quaren, she worried about him. Thoughts of Quaren consumed her; she needed to know if he was all right. Her feet carried her swiftly down the hall to Lucan’s room where he was stuffing several things into a bag, which he promptly hid.

“Emeline, what are you doing here?” Lucan asked, trying to lead her away from his bed and into the sitting room, an action that would normally raise suspicion in Emeline but seamed to go unnoticed.

“Where is he?” Emeline asked, demandingly. “I know you know Lucan you’re terrible at keeping secrets. Lucan tell me!” Hot red tears ran down her face as she bead her hands against his chest.

He held her hands trying to steady her. “If I knew where he was don’t you think I would have told you? When have I ever lied to you?” He asked. She calmed down and slumped into his deep armchair.

“You’ve never lied, this would be a first. Please Lucan, I have to see him,” Emeline said.

“Em, hanging on to him like this will do you no good. I know how you feel, trust me. But I also know it will only break your heart to keep waiting for him,” Lucan thought back to the little bell now sitting on his desk he’d kept all these years and the blond-haired girl. He knew how she felt all too well. “You really love him, don’t you?” She nodded. “Take a ride to the edge of town, you’ll find a healer there well versed in white magic. She may be able to help with your nightmares. Promise me you will go, I promise it will help.”

Frustrated she shoved Lucan out of the way and stormed out of the room. She knew he was hiding something and yet something in his face kept nagging her. She knew her father would disapprove of her leaving the city walls with out an escort though this would be far from the first time. She opened up her wardrobe and from the very back she pulled a leather satchel, slinging it over her shoulder she headed down to the stables. Her horse whinnied as she entered, already standing saddled in the crossties. Emeline mounted up, reveling in the familiar feeling of her horse. The mare pranced in anticipation and took off with out hesitation.

As she neared the town Emeline ducked into a small cluster of trees, tying the horse to one of the branches and pulling an old cloak from the satchel, she would go on foot from here her horse was to recognizable. The streets were soft and muddy from all the rain, the think stench of the dyers vats and waste wafted through the air mingling with the bakers a street over. Black smiths hammered away hard at work, wagons rolled by splashing the unlucky passers by with muck. Emeline passed by an old woman selling apples and hurried on afraid she’d been recognized, nearly bumping into a rag tag street performer dressed in the bright colors of a strolling players. He was watching a girl with golden hair and bells on her ankles, entranced. Through the marketplace, the stalls and carts and waves of people she finally came to the edge of town.

The house was simple and run down, moss grew over most of the ramshackle hut. What remained of the shutters hung loosely form their hinges and birds had built a nest in the open window. Smoke rose from the little chimney. Beautiful flowers grew in beds along the path looking almost out of place next to the hut. Emeline collected herself and knocked on the door. A moment latter a middle aged woman opened it. Her hair was tied in rags, her cloths simple and obscured under a cream colored apron. Her face looked worn like she hadn’t slept in a very long time, making her look older than she was.

“Yes?” She said. “How can I help you.”

Emeline pulled off her hood and opened the cloak, the woman recognized her and bowed, never taking her eyes off Emeline. This unnerved her, most people avoided eye contact but this woman glared at her with suspicion. “I am sent here by my brother, Lucan. I’ve not been sleeping well, he thought you might help,” Emeline explained.

“Yes, I can help. Forgive me my lady, I am Versina,” The woman said. “Please, wont you come inside.”

Despite the houses appearance, inside it was cozy. A fire burned in the hearth, filling the home with warmth and the fresh sent of burning wood. Bread sat cooling on a table, herbs hung drying from every beam. A groan emanated from some where in the hut and Emeline saw, almost hidden by a curtain; there was a small bed at the back, over it a small loft. In the bed lay a wounded man. Versina excused herself, crossing over to the bed and checking on his wounds. Emeline could smell it now, the stench of death and the dying. She’d smelt it first in the tent where they found Tassin. She covered her mouth and nose trying her hardest not to be sick herself.

The door swung open and a little girl burst in, tears running down her dirty face. “Please, you must come. My brother is sick, he wont get up! Please you must help him. Ma says you can,” The little girl cried.

“I can’t leave him,” Versina said quietly.

“Go, I’ll stay with him,” Emeline said, regretting it the second she had. Versina nodded and followed the little girl out after grabbing a handful of things, stuffing them into a bag.

Emeline steeled herself before crossing over to curtain, drawing it aside to revel the man behind it. For a moment her heart stopped and the air was knocked out of her as she looking into the ghostly white face of the man she loved. Quaren lay in a bed, torso wrapped in bloody bandages, fever shaking his emaciated body. His hair had grown long and now stuck to his pail face. She sat beside him, taking his hand, only bone now. Quaren didn’t stir and Emeline broke down into bitter tears. For hours Emeline sat with Quaren, talking to him. The daylight had long faded away when at last the woman returned. She bustled into the room and straight to Quaren. Once she was sure he was all right, the old woman turned to Emeline, thanking her for her help.

“This man was a friend of mine, will you notify me if there is any change in his condition?” Emeline asked.

“This boy, a friend of yours? That can’t be. Such a strange request for a lady of your rank, a princess. I have never heard of such a thing before, a princess and a peasant,” The old lady said, purely stunned. “Non the less for what you have done for me today I will do as you ask. Will you come see him again?”

“If I can, I shall.” Emeline said. She lifted her skirt and exited, giving Quaren one last look.

Three days passed before a young boy road up to the castle with a letter for Emaline.

“Don’t be to startled my lady, he is getting better slowly. These next few hours should tell. He has been calling for you all morning. I cant beguine to understand what business you would have with this boy, but it seams your visit may have helped,” Versina said. Quaren groaned again, calling for Emeline.

“I’m here Quaren,” Emeline said calmly. Quaren’s muttering grew less desperate. “I came as soon as I could, just like I promised. I’m so sorry.”

Versina left the room, returning with a light dress, handing it to Emeline. “Here, put this on. It will be a while yet and you will find this more comfortable. I’m afraid that dress may draw suspicion if any of my patrons decide to call.”

Emeline thanked the old woman. The dress was more comfortable, she was truly grateful. Hours passed by, neither of them left Quaren’s side for an instant. At last Quaren began to settle and the old woman gave Emeline the news she’d been waiting for, he would be fine. With this knowledge tucked away, Emeline slumped down in her chair and fell asleep. She awoke to find Quaren starring back at her, his eyes still glassy, his face weary. He smiled at her and took her hand.

“I knew you’d come,” He said. “I was sure of it. I needed to see you one last time before…”

“The old woman says you are going to live Quaren. I don’t want to hear any talk of death,” Emeline said. “I have missed you Quaren. I didn’t want to send you away. I had to, they would have killed you. I hate to see you this way, you are still so ill. Once you are better I’ll tell you everything. I promise Quaren.”

“Tell me now, please. I need to know that you are well. I need you to talk to me how you once did, before I went away. Just one last time,” Quaren pleaded.

Emeline kissed his cheek and lay down beside him humming softly as he held her, her fingers twirling in his hair as they both drifted away into sleep. Emeline visited him every day, finding every excuse to leave the castle to sneak down into the village. Before long he was strong enough to stand and they enjoyed many afternoons lying in the sun watching the clouds go by. Little by little Emeline felt her heart come alive again as the fear lifted. For the first time in a long time she felt free.

Once Quaren was well again, Lucan had him brought back to the castle where he was given a job as part of his personal guard. During the day Quaren could be found about the castle or at Lucan’s side. But at night Emeline would sneak out of her room and into his bed. It was on such an excursion that she failed to see Xyga hiding around a corner. He had seen her a few times around the castle and on this night had followed her, stealing away to Quaren’s room. A smile stretched over his face as a plan formed in his mind.


	6. Sins of the Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with Xyga forever changes Emeline and the lives of those around her.

Rowan was sitting in his throne reading a scroll when Xyga entered, bowing low. Rowan lazily looked up from his scroll acknowledging his presence. “Ah, Xyga, on time as always. What news do you bring me today?” He said “I understand you have news for me?”

Xyga was well connected all over Merratora. He had become Rowan’s spy the day he married Willow. Now that they were alone in the throne room Xyga delivered his news. “I will start by announcing that Bealcrest and Fyerul have returned to Aridya. But that is not what I wished to speak with you about my king. Topic I have to discuss is far closer to home. As you know I love this family as I love my wife and I would do anything to protect it’s honor.” Xyga paused for effect ensuring Rowan was listening before he continued. “My king, I have noticed much of late that your elder daughter has been sneaking about the castle. I grew concerned and merely meant to confront her when I saw her entering the room of Lucan’s guard, Quaren. I have seen her with him stealing away many times to secret places. I believe her to be a woman of honor and would never accuse her of such actions as to shame this family but I am less sure of the man.”

“You are sure?” Rowan asked, Xyga nodded in response. “Than I here by order his arrest, he is to be brought before me to face trial and judgment for this accusation. Should he be found guilty I will hold him in treason against the crown. This treachery will not go unpunished. I thank you Xyga for looking out for this family as you always have.”

With in the castle guards were set to search for Quaren and Emeline, little did they know that that they would not be found within the walls but rather just beyond them. Not far from the city walls there lay a freshwater lake. The water was clear and sweet to the taste, cool to the touch. Emeline and Quaren often came to this spot to swim as they had today. Emeline removed the last of her cloths as she stepped into the water, feeling the soft waves lapping at her feet. It was a perfect day, and as she looked over at him, she knew she was loved.

Quaren pulled her into him and Emeline felt her cheeks flush. She had been close to him before, seen his body, felt his chest and yet each time he touched her felt new and exciting. She let her eyes roam over him, taking in every detail, the arch of his neck, his broad shoulders, silver hair, bright purple eyes and his muscled arms. Emeline could see her own appearance reflected on the water, wondering not for the first time how someone as beautiful as he could love someone so plain. Her body shook and she swallowed nervously at his embrace. He leaned in, kissing her deeply, a passionate, driving kiss, biting her lower lip, pulling and pushing her hips to bring her closer. They were bound together in a clash of tongues and skin. The embrace was intense, stealing Emeline’s breath. She could feel his manhood harden against her, sensing the swell of his wanting. 

Quaren lifted her, dragging her along his body, his practiced hands sliding down her thighs to caress the heart of her femininity, exploring her body, and causing her to explode with sensation. His mouth moved smoothly across her wet skin, venturing lower with perfection, down her neck and chest to her breasts as if her were trying to paint her like a canvas with his tongue and lips. He paused, asking her with his eyes and words if he should stop or keep going, each time she nodded, reassuring him.

He pressed his phallus to her mound, penetrating her delicate crease. She whimpered at the feeling of once again being completely filled. Quaren’s movements were gentle and tentative as he began guiding her to match his own rhythm, slow at first than faster as she brought her hips to rock against his. A scream escaped Emeline’s lips and she clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed by the sound. Quaren chuckled.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I want to hear you,” He said, voice trembling, breath hot and heavy on her skin. He kissed her breasts, her face, her stomach, her neck, listening to her moan, her movement building his arousal, a gratifying moan escaping his soft lips as he pleaded with her to stop or it would be over to soon. A few seconds more and she could feel his release with in her as he reached his climax, his entire body relaxed, chest heaving from the exertion. She lay her head on his chest, listening to his beating heart, body still as his orgasm passed.

“Are you okay?” She asked, eyes full of concern.

Quaren again chuckled, his mirth breaking through all over his face, smiling broadly at her. “You really are something Em. I should be asking you that.” Quaren quickly pulled away from their embrace, a new sound taking him by surprise. He was panicking, motioning her to be silent. A few seconds more and Emeline could hear it to, three horses slowing to a stop above the waterfall, followed by footsteps in heavy boots. Only a few more feet before she knew they would be seen. Quaren stood up making himself known to the rider.

“Hello there,” Quaren shouted. “Fantastic day for a swim don’t you think?”

Xyga smirked knowingly at him. He’d known all along where to find Quaren and had a horse waiting. He fully intended to be the one to bring Quaren and Emeline in. “Come now, this will go a lot faster if we agree not to lie to each other. I know you are here with the princess.”

“Princess? Here? I think I would notice if I were naked and in the presence of royalty. I assure you, it’s only me here,” Quaren said, lying boldly.

One of the men who had accompanied Xyga picked Emeline’s dress from where it lay on the grass. Emeline recognized the man as Sadon, which would make the other his brother, Crewe. The DeGrey brothers were men of Xyga gard know for their brutality. Both men were near seven feet tall and equally as strong. Suddenly red-hot fear stuck her to the core as she watched Quaren’s encounter with the men. “I suppose you have a fancy for dresses than,” Xyga suggested. Crewe jumped down from the rocks pulling Emeline from where she hid. “And here I almost believed you. Tie him up.”

My lord, what of the girl…” Sadon asked.

“The little whore would be lucky to do as well as a man of my stature after what she has done with this peasant,” Xyga said, undoing his belt. “Hold her down.”

“You touch her I swear I’ kill you,” Quaren swore. The man grabbed Emeline roughly and Quaren made his move.

Quaren kicked Sadon square in the chest sending him back a step as Quaren made a break for his sword. Despite Quaren’s enhanced speed and strength, Sadon quickly got the upper hand, grabbing Quaren by the foot and beating him again and again until he lay still in the grass. The man bound and gagged him, leaving him helpless in the grass. Emeline struggled trying to get out of the man’s grip; with one swift motion he threw her painfully to the ground.

“Please just let me go, you don’t have to do this. Please,” She pleaded.

Xyga pressed his lips into hers and for a moment Emeline had control and she bit down, tasting blood in her mouth. Xyga pulled away, smacking her hard across the face. She kicked and thrashed trying to get him off but. She was loosing strength, feeling him thrust into her. She fell back, unable to fight any longer, her fire fading with each violently repeated thrust.

“You always thought you were to good for me. It’s to bad, we could have been happy but you had to choose this trash over me,” Xyga hissed in her ear. “How would you like a proper bastard sired by a great lord such as my self huhh? You won’t give me what I want than I will take it by force.”

The pain was excruciating and hot tears ran down her face as she waited for it to be over. She looked to where Quaren lay, beseeching him silently with her eyes. Again he tried to stand as yet another blow struck him, this time in the ribs. He didn’t see the knife tucked out of sight, didn’t hear the man draw the blade. Emeline wanted to warn him but no words came out and all she could do was watch in horror as Quaren attacked. “Get off of her,” He said, trying to force his anger through his words, their power lost in a gurgle of blood as he felt the blade slip between his ribs, turn and side out but there was no pain, only shock. “Emeline…” He crumpled to the ground, holding in the blood as his vision faded and he felt his world go black.

When Quaren came to he was bound over one of the men’s saddles, he could feel the pain now with every shift of the horse’s back, every bump on the ground. Sadon, the man who had stabbed him, was nowhere to be found, nor was Emeline. His consciousness was slipping again but he fought to remain awake, trying to free his hands of his bonds, every movement causing more blood to leak from the wound and once again passed out.

Crewe had been left behind to dispose of Emeline. She lay in the grass eyes still on the place where Quaren had fallen, his blood still in the place his body lay, she didn’t even flinch when Crewe set upon her. As he finished with her he pressed a knife to her throat prepared to strike. Hot blood trickled down her exposed body and it took a moment for her to realize it wasn’t her own. She lay crumpled on the ground, her body shattered by ripples of pain. Though her eyes were partly closed she could see the flash of Lucan’s sword as he ended the man’s life. Her lips were bloody, her body covered in horrid cuts and bruises. Suddenly warm gentle hands were touching and she turned her head weekly to see Lucan. He removed his cloak, wrapping her in it and pulling her close.

“It’s me Emeline, it’s okay,” He whispered. No matter how hard he tried Lucan couldn’t get her to reply, her eyes stared blankly into space chilling him to the core.

Lucan carried her all the way back to the castle, to where Tassin was waiting for them. They took care not to be seen as they scaled the stairs and halls to Emeline’s room. Lucan gently handed Emeline to Tassin who lay her in her bed. She had fallen into a troubled sleep, her body shaking as sobs tugged at her heart.

“He has to pay Tassin,” Lucan said. “They all must pay.”

Rage welled up in Lucan as he stormed from the room and into the throne room, sleeves still covered in blood. He drew his blade and went straight for Xyga killing his man, than turning his blade on Xyga himself before two of Rowan’s guards stopped him. “Let me go! I’ll kill you! You bastard I’ll kill you. She’s my sister! For what you have done I swear I will end you!” Lucan shouted, spitting at Xyga. “Father listen to me this man is not to be trusted. Please hear me out.”

Rowan rose from his throne and crossed to Lucan, still struggling to escape the grip of the palace guards. Rowan placed a hand on Lucan’s shoulder trying to calm him. “Peace Lucan,” he said. “My boy this is no way for a prince to be have. Calm yourself and speak, I will hear you.” Rowan motioned for the guards to release Lucan and Rowan lead him up the dais to sit as his right hand.

“My king this boy is clearly crazed with grief from the loss of his sister. If you would allow me to escort him to his room,” Xyga suggested.

“Father she’s not lost. Emeline is in her room, wounded and broken from what these men have done to her. Father I...,” Lucan swallowed and lowered his voice so only Rowan could hear. “Father I found her stripped naked aside the lake being defiled by Crewe, brother to this man I have killed. See his blood still on my hands father. I did this and I will pay for it but so must they for what they have done. I do not know why he would accuse Quaren of this, nor what would possess him to do what he did to my sister. I assure you father, Quaren is innocent. I would doubt he has even spoken to Emeline more than a few words in passing.”

“That is a very serious accusation. Lord Xyga is a trusted member of my court,” Rowan said.

“Than you should choose your friends more wisely. Father I carried her from the river to her room, saw what these men have done to her. Take a look at Emeline yourself father. I beg of you, do not punish this man for a crime he id not commit, at least award Quaren fair trial. Emeline has stayed loyal and faithful to her late husband, even past his death,” Lucan swore.

“The boy shall be given fair trial. As for you Lord Xyga. I here by strip you of all lands and titles and place you under arrest until such a time as trial is held for your accused crimes. Let word be sent to his people that trial is set for three days time and as the sun sets on the day so shall it upon his life should he be found guilty,” Rowan commanded. Quaren looked up at Lucan pleadingly but there was nothing he could do as the guards lead both Quaren and Xyga away.

Emeline lay in her bed, dressed in her silk nightgown. Tassin watched as Althalos continued to work, bandaging cuts, spreading medicine over her wounds. Bruises varying in sized covered her body and Tassin could feel the rage growing inside him. Mordrids hands worked quickly over her body, as he finished he pulled the sheets back up over her. Emeline shot up started, thrashing about, screaming in fear until she saw the comforting sight of Lucan back at her side.

“There’s nothing more I can do my lord,” Althalos said, bowing low.

“You’ve done enough and I thank you. Go now and I will call if more aid is needed,” Lucan said. He sat on the bed, smiling lightly at Emeline. She spoke only to say his name, voice weak and shaky, only a whisper. “I’m here Em, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to protect you.”

Lucan stayed with her until morning, until a guard came to fetch him to the throne room. Emeline was once again alone. She glanced all about her, seeing the men’s faces in every shadow. Slowly she rose from the bed, trying to find her footing. She pulled back the curtain, letting the light in, banishing the shadows. From her window she could see the lake, a sight that once had filled her with such joy now turned to cold chills. She could hear Xyga’s voices once again in her ears. “I’ve been inside you now princess, and no matter how hard you try you will always feel me inside you and soon you will feel the new life growing in you and you will never be rid of me.” The words still chilled her, making her skin crawl at the thought of his touch. “I bet you even enjoyed it.” A hand touched Emeline’s shoulder and she screamed, and lashed out.

“Emeline, it's me,” Tassin said. “Lucan didn’t want you to be alone, so he sent me.” Relief washed over her as she embraced Tassin. She had never been happier to see him. He kissed her forehead affectionately, his eyes full of sadness. “Rest Emeline, Lucan will be back shortly.”

But Emeline didn’t want to sleep. All over the castle she could hear new sounds as people started arriving for the trial. From what she could gather Quaren’s would be held this evening and Xyga the following night. It unnerved her to think of Quaren alone in a cell but to visit him now could impact the trial greatly and she knew Xyga would also be waiting for her in the dungeon. She could not bear to face him again, not now, not after what had happened. Willow had tried to come by to see her but she had denied her sister entrance. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain herself yet again


	7. Struggles of the Father

Lucan walked solemnly towards the throne room, past the servants and guards, not saying a word to any of them. He hated leaving Emeline alone after what had happened, he wanted to stay, wanted to protect her. He was angry, te need for revenge running rampant in his veins. He would make Xyga pay for his crimes if it was the last….

Something was grabbing at his arm, drawing his attention away from his deep seeded thoughts. Lucan whipped around startled to see Alenia looking up at him with her big eyes, red curls bouncing around her shoulders tied back by ribbons. She folded her arms giving him the best angry look she could manage which only made him chuckle. A mannerism learned from her mother no doubt but somehow less impressive on her childish face.

“Now what have I done to deserve such a look?” he asked. “I know what’ll make this better.” He fell to one knee before her, took her by the hand and bowed much in the same way a commoner would to him or even to Rowan himself. “Your majesty I humbly apologies for any wrong I have done you. If you could find it in your heart to forgive this lowly father and give him another chance?”

She straightened up, squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin much like her mother. How much she looked like Faylinn and in that moment, he saw her not only as his little girl but as the young woman she was becoming. He wished he could freeze her, stop her from growing up and keep her at this age forever. Alenia folded her arms and turned her back on him, every movement suggestion a regal superiority only found at court. 

“Why should I?” She asked. What a childish response, so un befitting of her age and of the mannerisms she was attempting to display. “You didn’t come last night. You always say good night before bed, but you weren’t there! No doubt off with a girl again. You always do this, hurt mother than pretend everything is okay and then you forget about me!” Her composure broke and she smacked him.

“Alenia,” Lucan sighed, at a loss for words. She hit him again and again. “Easy. Easy now!” 

He grabbed her hand as she tried again to slap him which only made her more angry. Lucan held her tightly, pinning her arms to her sides until she gave up and stormed away from him. He paused a moment trying to think of what to say before trotting after her down the hall. He couldn’t tell her the truth but if he lied to her now he knew she would know.

“Alenia I was with a girl last night yes but not in the way you think. Emeline was hurt. I was with her, trying to protect her. I have duties to her as a bother as important as my duties to you as a father. I wanted to come see you, but she needed me more. On another note, what I do, what goes on with me and your mother, that’s none of your business and you would do well to remember that.” Lucan Explained. 

“Father, everyone is so quiet; more people are arriving at the castle. I’ve not seen Emeline in two days. And you, you’ve never missed a night and you’ve been sneaking from the castle, going out alone. Tell me what’s happening!” Alenia demanded. Angry tears were forming in her eyes and Lucan could feel his heart tug as he was filled with guilt. He wiped the tears from her eyes, desperately trying to comfort her.

“I can’t tell you Alenia, I wish I could. I promise you will understand someday,” Lucan said. She pulled away from him angrily. “Please try to understand. There are somethings…. Alenia I am trying to protect you as I always have.” He reached for her but she pushed his hand away, shoving him, even more frustrated that he remained unmoved. She ran from him, tears still running down her face.

She was getting to a tough age, more and more Lucan felt as though he was losing her. Lucan knew he was meant to be in the throne room none the less he turned to follow Alenia. He found her sitting in the garden, she sat on a bench, her feet not touching the ground and for a moment Lucan forgot how much she had grown. He thought back to the little girl who had once taken her first steps here, to the girl he had once chased through this garden, the young girl who had followed him around, clinging to his pant legs every time he’d had to leave.

She looked up at him as he approached, her face softened to sadness. She hated fighting with Lucan. It left her feeling sick, and full of guilt and nothing, not a hug from her mother or the gifts Tassin so often brought her could make her feel better. Lucan sat on the bench beside her and she placed her head on his chest, the familiar sound of his heartbeat calming her.

“Alenia…” Lucan said, breaking the silence. “I’m not a perfect father, nowhere near, but I do the best I can. I’m sorry that I can’t make you understand, that you are feeling betrayed. You will understand in time. I need you to trust me for just a little longer.”

She loved her father more than any one in the world and she could feel what remained of her anger melting away. “Papa, I’m sorry. I don’t like it when we fight,” She said. “It’s just…. I know I am getting near the age when you will send me away to be married. Soon I wont see you or mom and everything will change. I don’t want to leave home. I don’t want to lose what I have now. Can we please not fight any more?”

“You’re not a little girl anymore but sometimes I forget. You’re growing up so fast,” Lucan said. “Someday you will learn all about these secrets I keep, and you will learn of the terrible things in this world. I don’t tell you because I want to protect you, to keep you my little girl just a little longer.” Alenia looked expectantly at him. “Yesterday a very bad man hurt my sister. Not everyone in this world is good and it is up to me to make sure this man pays for what he has done to his family. The people arriving at the castle are here for this man’s trial. Just a few days than things will go back to normal. I go to meet my father now to start the trial but I promise you I will be there tonight.”

“No wait!” She shouted as he turned to leave. She reached up on her toes and straightened out his circlet. The thin silver crown, adorned with silver leaves and a blue gem now sat proudly upon his head. “That’s better. I'll see you later daddy.”

He kissed her forehead and ruffled her hair before he returned to the corridor to the throne room. Quaren was already waiting, bound in chains. He looked pleadingly at Lucan as he passed by. He was hunched over, his torso covered in blood and dirty bandages, his body darkened with bruises. Several other lords had gathered also in the throne room today, they chatted noisily, voices echoing off the hallowed hall. Rowan rubbed his head wearily. He raised a hand to signal for silence and Lucan took his seat for the trial to begin.


	8. Here there Be Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack on Aridya changes the course of our young hero’s life forever, leaving his people broken and his city in ruin

The sky was dark by the time the trial had ended. Though there was no proof to condemn Quaren to death the lords had demanded he be served lashes and banished by first light. When the trial ended, Lucan had brought Quaren away to a small room near the servant’s quarters where he now broken, body mangled from the beatings the guards felt and the lashes upon his back. He had managed to buy Quaren time to allow the wounds to heal and hoped in time he could pardon his friend, if only he knew how. Athalos did what he could to heal Quaren but his body was too far gone for standard healing, he’d lost so much blood. Quaren waved a hand over broken ribs, trying to conger enough strength to use his magic but couldn’t.

“You must not strain yourself, you’re to weak for magic. We need to get you out of the castle Quaren, it's not safe for you here anymore,” Lucan said.

“But what of Emeline? I can’t leave her here knowing what has been done to her, knowing what may yet come….” Quaren dared not finish the sentence.

Lucan paused, thinking a moment, conflict racking his thoughts, rushing from the room with the reassurance of his prompt return. Quaren sank back down on the bed, breathing slowly, trying to take his mind off the pain as he slipped into a state of meditation. When Lucan returned, he woke from this state with a start, looking around in confusion.

His eyes fell on Emeline, wrapped in a blanket and sitting beside him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at her, he felt his breath leave his chest and he couldn’t speak. Emeline was much the same, silent, guarded and distant. It surprised Lucan when it was she who made the first move, reaching out to touch his hand, entwining her fingers around his.

“Look at me,” She said softly.

“I can’t,” Quaren replied. “What happened… It's because of me. You got hurt because of me. Emeline what if you’re…. what if…” The sentence tasted bitter on his tongue as he tried to master the courage to look at her. “What if you’re pregnant with that monsters child. How could I forgive myself… Emeline I’m so sorry.” He turned his head, looking at her unable to breath. He saw the bruises on her neck and face, on her wrists, and he could only imagine the rest of her body. He felt as though he were going to be sick. Mastering what strength, he had left he reached up to her face, healing the cut over her eye, then moving to the bruises on her neck, each time the strain becoming ever more visible.

“Quaren you can’t, you’ll kill yourself if you use magic in this condition,” Lucan scolded. “I worked really hard to save your life, the least you could do is keep from killing yourself foolishly. Rest. Heal.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Emeline asked teasing Lucan. Her face became serious once more as she looked closer at Quaren’s wounds, tracing the place where he’d been stabbed. “If you have strength left, heal yourself. These wounds….”

“Athalos says they will heal, he will be okay,” Lucan assured her. “You are on the mend Quaren, with your enhanced healing you should be back in a few days. But you can’t stay here any more. Emeline, you are my sister and I love you dearly but I must send you away, both of you. I will arrange safe passage to the outlands, from there perhaps you can start a life together and you will be happy. It is a place where you can raise your children and marry free of the expectations of our people. Start over.”

Emeline and Quaren thanked Lucan and he set out to start making preparations for their departure. But a scream from down the hall stopped Lucan in his tracks. Growling and the distinct sound of claws on marble echoed through the halls. As Lucan peaked out the door he could see the silhouette of a werewolf in the lamp light. He closed the door, crossing back over to the bed. “Change of plans. Quaren, take what strength you must from me; you must heal your wounds. You’re leaving tonight.”

“That might kill you,” Quaren protested though he could see Lucan’s mind was made up.

The smell of a fresh kill filled the air making Morisies feel almost drunk from the thrill, he could still taste the fresh blood on his muzzle as he sniffed the air, catching the scent of his next prey. He could smell the boy and his companions hiding behind the door at the end of the hall but they were not what he was after. Two other wolves rallied to his side as the grey wolf turned away from where Lucan hid, heading down another corridor and vanishing.

Lucan wondered why the wolf hadn’t attacked him and fear filled him as he thought of the rest of his family and companions meeting in the great hall. He was weakened from the energy drain but nonetheless, brandishing his sword and telling them to stay, Lucan stumbled in the direction of the wolves. He turned a corner, ducking out of sight just in time to avoid being seen by the biggest of the three.

“Find Elsem and the boy, watch out for Samrie,” Morisies ordered. “Mortic wants them alive, don’t forget, so you’d better find them before the black knights do or I will kill you myself.” The two wolves took off down the corridor and up the marbled steps. Morisies however stayed behind. “I know you’re there boy. You really think you can hide from a werewolf?”

“I know who you are. You’re Morisies Panshire, you killed my brother,” Lucan blurted out as he stood from where he hid.

“Possible, I kill a lot of people so you will have to forgive me if his particular death slips my mind. What was your plan boy? Challenge me? Kill me? You can hardly stand I doubt you can wield that blade. Though I give you points for bravery or perhaps its stupidity. Most people see me and tremble with fear but you…,” Morisies said, toying with Lucan. He was unimpressed; this boy was the son of Elsem the white? Impossible, he was weak and foolish, not at all like the hero he’d been expecting. “Those wolves are here for you, they want to take you away into the north along with your mother.”

“Just try it. You won’t kill me, you didn’t then and you wont now,” Lucan said pointing his sword at the wolf’s chest.

Enraged Morisies snapped the blade in his claws, pinning Lucan to the wall with his massive hands. “Still think I won’t kill you?” A bell rang out from the castle wall, signaling an attack and Morisies growled in frustration, letting Lucan go. “Fools, they’ve alerted the guard. Get out of here boy. I will kill you but not today. When I fight you and win I want the world to see you fall, I want to break your body upon the mountain side and bathe in your blood. To kill you now would be to easy.” Morisies turned to follow in the direction of the other wolves.

“Wait! If you aren’t going to kill me, why are you here?” Lucan asked.

“You really don’t know? A new rider has awoken; the black king has been searching for him. There’s an informant in the court you see, one with great skill in magic and he has tracked the rider here. The black king will soon find the rider and kill him before Mortallion’s air ever sits upon the golden throne as the one true dragon king. So you had best hope they don’t find you unless you wish to face the black lands. History is repeating itself and soon the balance will be restored.”

“Step away from my son,” Rowan commanded appearing around the bend sword drawn and poised to attack. Morisies turned ready to face Rowan. “Run Lucan, run. I will find you.” Rowan waited until Lucan was out of sight before advancing, examining his target thougholy. “It was foolish of you to return after what you did to this family, to my wife and son.”

“She was mine long before you were even born. It’s you who was foolish to ever think she could love you over me, to think she could betray the wolf inside. I let you live the first time Rowan, do not think that I will show you the same mercy again,” Morisies replied, circling round into his attack stance.

Tassin could hear the bells tolling, signaling an alarm and he ran to the window, peering out into night. Torches lit up the streets as what appeared to be only about 50 men, maybe less, rampaged through the town. Fifty men against a castle, surly they would be no match for the guards. But he could see even from his tower as he watched in horror, as fast as his men could strike the soldiers down they would stand and reset, re attaching limbs and healing wounds as they were delt. No matter how hard the men fought they could not kill the soldiers. Below the castle, in the streets, people rushed to close their shutters. Soldiers raised from their sleep rushed to dress and arm themselves, taking a stand at their posts. That’s when Tassin saw it, a fire set a blaze in the courtyard, catching onto the dry thatch houses and straw strewn across the ground set ablaze by men clearly bearing the house sigil of a black and gold dragon on a field of red. The men had been here all along, welcomed in as guests by the king himself for the trial of their soon to be Lord and master Xyga. A shout rang out over the rabble. “Find the dragon king! Find him!” The dragon king? Had he heard them right? Feeling stupid Tassin finally understood what was going on. Xyga had been working for the black king, he must have felt the surge of power when the dragon hatched and tracked it back here.

Bodies littered the ground beneath Tassin’s feet as he stumbled out of his room, working to fasten his armor, a difficult task with only one arm. How could this have happened? They had been blind-sided. Rowan’s men were the best fighters in all of Merratora, it should have taken an army to do this amount of damage. He caught sight of Quaren and Emeline in the chaos, shouting, calling their names.

“Where are Lucan and Rowan?” He asked.

“I saw him only a moment as we passed on the stairs. I was on my way to join the battle when I found Emeline and Quaren. Father we need to get out of the castle now!” Quaren replied. “These men, they fight like none I’ve ever seen, my men strike them down and they get back up again. There’s something else. I heard one of them mention the Dragon king. But that’s impossible isn’t it?”

A loud roar shook the ground, thundering off the stonewalls, raising the hair on Tassin’s arms. As he peered out, eyes to the sky, his greatest fears were realized. A crimson dragon, its body near 100 feet, its wing span almost double. The beast cut the smoke with its great wings, fire glinting off its metallic horns. It landed in the courtyard, splitting the stone under its weight. Xyga appeared, walking towards the beast. He looked straight and as he did so, his eyes turned black, his skin fading to an almost transparent white, tattoos of runes and rituals appeared on his body, covering his arms and torso, stretching up his neck and stopping at his chin. Xyga was a warlock, a wizard turned dark and from the look of his markings, turned as dark as it gets.

After his encounter with Morisies Lucan had made his way up to the courtyard, his heart skipped a beat, than nearly stopped all together when he saw the carnage left by the battle as it raged on. Bodies littered the ground, the men who were still alive were loosing badly, falling one by one until there were none. Lucan made no attempt to stay hidden, heading right into the fray, sword drawn. His sword moved swiftly in his hands, feet moving quickly like a well-practiced dance. A high-pitched scream pierced Lucan’s ears, a small voice called out his name. He knew the voice all to well.

“Alenia!” Lucan called out again and again.

He caught sight of her for a brief moment through a window above. Lucan sheathed his sword and started to climb, his hands and feet struggling to find holds. Arrows bounced off the stone around him, missing him by a hair. Again and again he could hear the plink of arrows off the stones. At last he reached the top, pulling himself over the railing of the balcony. His arms ached from the climb but he pressed on, once again drawing his blade and heading to where he had last seen Alenia. Lucan could hear the screaming, this time closer than before. Lucan shook himself back to consciousness, willed himself to his feet, picking up his blade with renewed vigor. He found Alenia clutching her knees to her chest, Samrie, the two toned wolf standing guard over her; three men lay dead at his feet.

“My lord,” He said bowing his head low, exposing his throat. “I think it’s about time we left.” Lucan gathered Alenia under his arm, drawing her in, relieve to see she was unharmed. Samri shifted back in to Althalos, steeling the cloths off one of the men he had killed. Lucan and Alenia followed Athalos through a passage that led into the square. “Follow this passage to the end it will take you under the stairs to the courtyard, from there you can get to the stables. You must get out of this city.”

“Althalos what is happening?” Lucan asked.

“History my lord. History is about to be repeated. So it has been for told that a young rider will rise to lead us in a new Dragon age and banish back the darkness,” Marties said. He placed a hand on Lucan’s chest over the dragons mark. “Tell no one of the dragon, let no one see the mark. Forgive me my lord, it has been my duty and honor to protect you but I can take you no further.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucan asked.

“It is not for me to tell you. Your fate was decided long before you were born, and will be spoken of long after you are gone,” Althalos replied. “You a top the great white dragon, will restore balance but only if you live. May we meet again.”

Lucan tried to ask more but Althalos was already gone, leaving Lucan and Alenia alone. He followed the pathway which lea straight into the tack room of the stable. He was surprised to see two horses already tacked and ready to go. Tassin was waiting; he threw a rough woolen cloak to Lucan and a similar one to Alenia. Lucan lifted Alenia onto the horse and mounted up behind her.

“We ride for Tan-Lothar. Father will be waiting there for us,” Tassin said.

Lucan nodded and kicking the horse into motion, the thunder of its hooves beat a steady rhythm, steading Lucan’s heart, focusing his thoughts. The gate was not far now as he passed through the courtyard towards the stone bridge. Yes only a few more paces, he could see the gate before him and the bridge just beyond. Fire sprouted from the ground scaring the horses, rearing up and tossing their riders. Alenia hit the ground, her head hitting the stone, knocking her into black. Lucan looked around for Tassin but he was no where to be found, lost in the smoke and flames. The gate crashed down behind him blocking off his only exit. He was trapped between the iron bars and a wall of fire, licking at his skin. A command to fire came from somewhere in the night and arrows rained down on them. One struck Lucan in the shoulder and he could feel hot blood dripping from the wound. He pulled the arrow our raising his arms in defense, trying desperately to protect Alenia. The last thing he saw, several guards closing in, before a club was brought down on his head.

Once the battle had ended and the smoke cleared there was nothing left to do but burry the dead. Tassin walked the streets of the now burned village, the sacked halls of his castle, his old living quarters, taking stock of what had happened in the night. Emeline and Lucan where nowhere to be found, his only comfort that they had not been found amongst the dead. The bodies lay in rows now in the blood soaked streets, candles at their heads. Lucan’s wife Faylin, Willow, and many of the great lords of the land now lay with peasants, millers daughters, servants, as their equals in death. Athalos cleared his throat announcing his presents to Tassin, his face solum and resigned.

“We found him Tassin, body ripped to ribbons. Tassin, Rowan is dead and Lucan is gone,” Athalos said. “We need a leader; the people need someone they can turn to.”

Tassin swallowed hard trying to steel himself, to clear his head. He knew Athalos was right, he would have to take the throne, but he couldn’t think about that now. “Bury the bodies Athalos, treat the wounded and see that the survivors are cared for. We need to move our people to safy. Arridya is dead. Send word, we make for strong hold in the mountains.”


	9. Slavers Bay

Alenia was in a covered wagon, Lucan’s head in her lap. She was unsure where they were but the road was bumpy, launching the cart this way and that making her feel ill. Two guards sat at the entrance of the wagon, they shot her a look that unnerved her. Six other people, four men and two women were also in the cart, hands bound. A particularly violent bump woke Lucan. He looked around, confused, fear turning to bittersweet horror when his eyes fell upon Alenia. Gods, he’d dragged her into this to? Faylinn would never forgive him, not this time, if she’d even surprised that is. What had become of his beloved home? 

“What happened?” Lucan asked.

“The horse threw us, I was here when I woke. Daddy why are we here? Who are these men?” Alenia asked.

“I don’t know,” Lucan replied. “But from the looks of it I doubt they know who I am and that just might help us now.”

Lucan looked Alenia over relieved to see she was unharmed say for a few scrapes and bruises from the fall. He on the other hand was less well off. His head ached from where he’d been struck and as he moved burning, stinging pain shot through his body, reminding him of the hole in his shoulder where the arrow had struck.

“You’re hurt,” Alenia said. She fumbled with his shirt, trying to pull it away to see the wound. Lucan grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. “You need help papa, let me see.” He pulled her in close to him motioning for her to be silent.

“There are things that must stay hidden. You remember your Rune studies? The ones about the dragons?” Lucan asked keeping his voice low. Alenia nodded, confusion written on her face. Lucan pulled aside his shirt being sure no one else could see and Alenia stifled a gasp when she saw the marking on his chest, obscured by the arrow wound.

“You’re a… does anyone else know?” Alenia asked in response. “But if you’re a rider you have magic don’t you? You can get us out of here.”

“No one else. If any one sees…” Lucan said. Again Lucan looked around to ensure no one had heard them. “I am a rider Alenia but I haven’t been one for long. I have not yet learned to control any of the magic or abilities I may have. If I am ever to get the chance to learn I need you to keep this a secret.”

The wagon stopped, Lucan could hear the men dismounting, a few moments later and a large wooden gate swung open on its hinges. A hard jerk sent the wagon moving again. Lucan struggled to peer out through a hole in the cloth, trying to figure out where they were. The ground was wet and muddy, he could smell the muck, hear it sloshing under the horse's feet. Somewhere out side chains rattled, men worked with heavy tools, the clanging ringing all around. The smell of smoke, pungent dye vats and dung mingled with the faint scent of the salty sea. Yes they were near the water; Lucan could hear it now lapping against the shore.

The wagon stopped a second time and Lucan could hear several sets of heavy boots headed towards them. Two men dressed in leather armor and ratty woolen cloaks opened the wagon and started ushering the men from the wagon. Pain shot through Lucan as the men took hold of him, shoving him from the wagon and onto his feet. His knees were stiff from the journey. Alenia screamed as the men took her roughly by the arm, throwing her into Lucan as she to left the wagon. He collapsed to the ground groaning as he caught her. The guard pulled Lucan away to where their commander stood, ripping open Lucan’s shirt to reveal the hole in his chest. Enraged the commander grabbed Lucan roughly, driving a figure into the arrow wound. Lucan suppressed a gurgling cry of pain as his vision blacked out for a moment.

“Kill him,” the guard commanded, tossing Lucan to the ground at the soldier's feet. Alenia screamed throwing her arms around Lucan protectively.

“Please don’t! Let me care for him. I can heal him. Please!” Alenia pleaded. “Let me save him.”

“We camp here for the night. You have until morning. He will walk or he will die,” The Commander replied.

The soldiers lit a fire, chaining their captives just out of reach from the warmth it provided. Through the night they eat and drank while Alenia fussed over Lucan, cleaning his wounds and struggling to stop uthe bleeding. Finally the guards fell asleep and Alenia dragged herself, hands and feet bound towards the flames where she stuck a spoon in the ash. Once it was red she warped it in a cloth and dragged herself back towards where Lucan lay. One guard woke, grabbing Alenia by the ankle and she screamed. This guard was young, only a few years older than she herself was and even as he drew his dagger against her, she could see the hesitation in his face.

“Wait! Wait,” Alenia said showing him the spoon. “Please, I need to close his wound.” The guard nodded, letting her go. Alenia hurried over to Lucan, pressing the heated spoon onto his wounded flesh. He woke with a start biting down on the rag Alenia had shoved in his mouth, finally passing out once more from the pain, stench of burning flesh still stinging his nose. At last the wound closed and Alenia removed the burning metal, cooling his skin with water.

When morning came the sun stretched over the land like fingers warming the freezing captives and raising the guards from sleep. Lucan stirred waking Alenia who had fallen asleep on his chest. He smiled at her and for a moment she felt safe, forgetting where she was until she heard the clink of chains and a voice commanding her to stand.

“Can you walk?” she asked watching Lucan closely, Lucan nodded in response, eyes fixed on the approaching guards, watching as they pulled the men and women apart.

Lucan turned Alenias face into his chest so she wouldn’t see as he bent low to whisper in her ear. “I’m gonna be alright. Alenia listen you’ve been very brave, braver than I ever could have expected. But now you need to be strong and smart to. They are going to separate us now but only for a little while. Be a good girl, keep your head down. It’ll be okay, we’ll be okay and no matter what I will find you.”

“No… I don’t wanna leave you!” Alenia screamed. A guard pulled Alenia away from Lucan and jabbed him in the side to make him walk.

“I’ll find you Alenia, no matter how long it takes, I will always find you,” Lucan shouted back but she was already to far away. 

Alenia was chained further down the line, she tried to look back at him but the guard who held her chains dragged her forward every time. Her hands shook with fear and she wanted to run but her father’s words stuck with her, she would obey, for now. They walked until the sun had begun to once again fall lower in the sky. At last the dull shadows of a shanty town appeared in the distance. They were by the water now, they could hear the lapping of waves, smell the salt of the sea. As they entered the town the streets were empty and the guards ushered them without a word to the edge of the sea where several metal cages were waiting. Many other prisoners were already inside, some Lucan recognized as people from Aridya, others were strangers to him. Most were adults, strong and healthy, while other older captives guarded the small children who clung to their parent’s sides.

Silence fell as the moon rose high in the night sky; only the crying of the small children remained. Thunder and lightning split the night sky above their heads as the rain poured down on them, turning the already wet ground to mud, sloshing up around them and stealing what little warmth they’d had left. Straining against the water blurring his vision Lucan looked around for any sign that might tell him where they were. It was further north than his home, he missed the warm southern breeze, the smell of wild flowers, the soft grass. He wondered if he would ever see them again. As the sun rose the next morning and the rain stopped, 10 captives had died, 3 of them children of a tender age. Soldiers dragged their bodies from the cages, discarding their corpses in heaps along the ditch.

The guards opened the cage and dragged Lucan away. They stripped him down to his basic garments, exposing his flesh, dumping icy buckets of water over him to wash the mud away. One by one the guards branded the prisoners, holding them down by the shoulders and pressing a hot iron into their chest. Lucan gritted his teeth in anticipation as he felt the metal bite into his skin, the smell of burning meat once again assaulting his air. Somewhere in the crowd Lucan could hear Alenia, catching sight of her for only a moment as the guards prepared to brand her. Lucan lashed out, taking down the men he could with his bound hands, trying to return to her but one of the larger men tore him away, beating him to the ground, knocking Lucan into black, all the time he could hear Alenia crying.

When Lucan came back around he was below deck on ship with several other men in wooden bunks, the few women and children held below deck huddled in the back corner. Slender hands wrapped themselves round his fingers, and to his relief he saw her sitting beside him. She lay beside him, head on his chest, listening to his heart as she so often did and for a moment his fear subsided. The guards loaded the last of the slaves onto the ship and closed the hatch, snuffing out the last of the light, soon they were surrounded in nothing but water.


	10. Panshire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athalos struggles to save a long lost friend and enemy.

Deep in the woods Athalos walked, thinking to himself, talking with his little dragon. The breeze ruffled his hair and he longed to once again take wolf form. Looking around to see no one was watching, he stripped off his garments down to his skin and began to turn. The first moments were painful but at last he felt the ground beneath his paws, yes paws now not hands. He knelt beside the river looking over his reflection. He was broader than most wolves, albeit shorter and his two toned coat of white and black was certainly unlike any other, stunning against the vivid green of the trees. His hot breath forming steam in the chill air, not long now until the green was gone and the world would be all white once more. Snuffling in the fresh air, Athalos, now Samri took off at a run, reveling in his speed, feeling the ground tremble beneath his touch as he ran. A new scent almost missed among the ménage of forest, stopped Samri dead in his tracks. He spun around to see a much taller grey wolf, sitting on his haunches amidst a small collection of brush. Were his sense of smell not so strong Samri might have missed the newcomer all together. A throaty chortle rumbled in the larger wolf’s throat as he stood and ascended towards him.

“You’ve lost yourself brother. Do you forget who I am?” Moresies said. Samri growled as he said the name, grudgingly lowering his head to the grey wolf. “That’s better. Now was that so hard?”

“What do you want?” Samri asked. “You have no business in these parts.”

“Father has been searching for you. He wants the boy,” Moresies replied. “But of course you knew that. I am to bring you to him, dead or alive.”

“I don’t want to fight you. I have no quarrel with you,” Samri said.

“The ground has no quarrel with a boot but it is trampled on none the less, as is the balance of the weak and strong of this world you so dearly love,” Moresies sneered, laughing malevolently.

“Can’t you hear yourself? Just because you are a wolf, doesn’t mean you have to be a monster, the humans are still your people even if you so love to deny that,” Samri said. “She cares for you, worries for you but if she saw you now your own sister would not recognize you. Even your brother, your human brother from birth curses your name for the atrocities you have committed. Come home brother, and stop all this madness.”

"I...am NOT...A HUMAN!! If Elsem could see those MAGOTS FOR WHAT THEY ARE, SHE WOULD APPLAUD ME!!! And NEVER claim to know my brother!” Moresies shouted, lashing out narrowly missing Samir who had anticipated his attack. Red-hot anger filled Moresies, his shoulders rising and falling as rage coursed through him.

“Come home brother, and stop all this madness,” Samir pleaded.

Moresies lunged for Samri’s throat, overshooting his target in his anger giving Samire his chance. In one swift motion Samir jumped, landing on Moresies and sinking his claws into his back. Moresies howled as black blood flew from his wound. He quickly threw Samir off, pinning him down and raising his claws to lash at Samri’s chest. Samir responded, raising his hind paws and sending the grey wolf flying into the air. Both wolves reset, ready for the next flurry of attacks when a man appeared, brandishing a bow, knocked with a silver arrow.

“No, don’t!” The words had hardly left Samri’s mouth when Moresies let out a mournful yowl of pain. The arrow had embedded itself deep in his chest, narrowly missing his heart. Samir moved towards him trying to help.

“Get away from me!” Moresies shouted gritting his teeth, muttering profanities between whimpers.

Despite Moresies’ protesting, Samir placed a hand on his forehead, muttering a few words and lulling the wounded wolf to sleep. Samir touches the small yellow stone that hangs from a chain around his neck. “He’s hurt Elsem. Help him, please,” Samir whispered. There was a momentary pause followed by a flash of light and Moresies vanished. Samir turned back to the man who still looks confused as ever. “He is my brother and you shot him.”

“Your brother? Forgive me my lord,” Marties replied. “I was sent to aid you by his majesty Rowan. I thought…. He mentioned you were a…. you were a wolf.”

“My name is Samri Panshire of the Western wolves, you are safe with me, put down your bow,” Samri commanded. He shifted back to human. Althalos whistles and his horse appeared through the trees, stopping at his side. Looking pleased with the beast and raising a proud, boastful eye to Marties he began rifling through the saddlebags, found a new pair of clothing and got dressed. “Come with me if you wish but mine is not a journey for the faint of heart.

Moresies woke to find himself in a brightly lit room; everything was white around him except for the ornate wood carving making up the walls, every detail was inlaid with either gold or silver. White curtains hung from his bed, reflecting the brilliant sunshine seeping in through the windows. A sickly sweet scent was in the air, the dry scent of sand mingling with the crisp mountain air and wildflowers that grew along its sides. Only one place in all of Merratora had a scent so distinct, so mysterious and yet familiar, he was in the West. For a moment he allowed himself to relax, sinking into his soft bed, the satin sheets feeling cool against his burning skin. He raises a hand to block out the sun, recoiling from the pain in his shoulder but even more startling was the discovery, he was in his human form.

A fire crackled in the stone hearth across the room from his bed, standing by it was a woman with long golden hair, dressed in a long flowing white dress, the cloth glowing in the sunlight as it swirled around her, catching in warm breeze. She’d been watching him for some time, silent as a marble statue, waiting patiently for him to wake, and now she stood smiling warmly at him. All at once the memories washed over Moresies, he remembered now why he hated the West so much now. The woman was Selina, a girl he’d once known as a child, a woman to whom he owed his life now twice over and the mother of the boy he had been ordered to kill.

“Good morning Allerin. I had almost feared you would not wake. You’ve been asleep for some time,” Selina said. She sat beside him, brushing his sandy hair off his face.

That name she’d used, it’d been so long since he’d heard it. His blood father Moretic had called him Moresies and from that day on he had forsaken his human blood lines to embrace the wolf. “That is no longer my name,” he replied.

“You have lost yourself over time but the name is still yours,” Selena said. “You are no prisoner here, you may come and go as you like. No one will harm or stop you so long as you do not give them reason to. Stay, rest, and recover, when you are strong enough you may leave if you wish. There is much you can learn here. It is good to see you again, really it is.”

Selina exited the room with a smile and Allerin, for he had decided so long as he remained in this form he would reclaim this name also, looked around the room once more, examining every detail. This room seemed all too familiar, bringing back memories, harsh, painful and to close to his heart. He’d grown up in the west, so long ago this place had been home. But after all he’d done how could he call it home now and how could Selina find it in her heart to show him such kindness? Then again, she’d always been there when he needed her. Long ago she had saved his life and now she’d done so again, yet when she needed him, he’d simply turned away. Eighteen years ago but the memory lingered still fresh in his mind.

Snow had blown wild across the plains that day, whipping through his fur. Moresies could feel Samri close at his side. He was hunting, hard on the track of Selina, bound by the blood father’s orders. Ahead he could hear the pack, growling and snarling ferociously, the sound drifted off, lost in the wind and snow. “They must have found something,” Moresies thought to himself.

A scent on the wind caught Moresies’ attention sending him at a dead run down the sloping plains into the valley. He can hear a woman screaming. Through the blizzard he can see the snow stained with red as 5 wolves surround Selina, ripping her to pieces. She has held them back best as she could with magic but she had ran out of energy and was now losing the fight. Moresies was horrified, the scent of blood lay thick in the air, both tempting and terrifying. Moresies could feel a hunger rising in him, a primal scream calling him to the fight but he could not dare. He could only stand, motionless. Samri charged past Moresies, sending the wolves flying, it didn’t take long before he had the upper hand. The wolves turned tail in full retreat, leaving Selina in a puddle of her own blood, her insides ripped out. The blood was to bright, to brilliant in the white snow, Selina’s blond hair hung all but dyed. Moresies approached in a daze, unsure what to do or say. Samri touched her, trying to move her, but Moresies let out a throaty roar.

“Moresies she’ll die,” Samri said, franticly. He tried again to heal Selina but Moresies attacked him. With one swift motion Samri grabbed Moresies around the neck, pinning him to the ground. “If you don’t let me help her she will die. You need to trust me.” Moresies growled again but Samri shoves him down harder. He waited a moment for Moresies to calm down before releasing his grip. He began chanting low under his breath, doing all he could to heal the wounds. Some of the skin started to knit together and the bleeding slowed. At last Samri sat up, looking exhausted. There was a long silence between the two wolves as the unspoken questions raised, the answer hanging in the air. “I can do no more.”

“You must!” Moresies said in a commanding tone.

“You know what must be done if she is to live,” Samri said. Again there was silence. “I will take her into the West to seek the help of the monks. There she will be safe.” Moresies protested, poorly masked anguish in his ever proud voice. “It’s the only way. If I don’t take her she will die. Please, you must let me go, there isn’t much time.”

Conflict racked Moresies, for a moment anger got the upper hand but he knew Samri was right, as much as it pained him to admit, the other wolf was right. What choice did he have? Turning away so as not to see, “Take her Samri; go into the West if you must. But know this, if you go, when we meet again we are enemies.”

That had been the last time he had seen either Selina or Samrie. He’d taken her away into the West, his two best friends gone to where he could no longer follow. So that was it, he’d simply slunk away into the mountains. He’d been so angry, the rage burning like a flame inside him, threatening to devour what little remained of him, of his humanity, though deep down there was still a glimmer of it left. He had howled, yelling and swearing into the night, his words reverberating off the mountains, frightening all whose ears his cries penetrated. How the blood father had lighted at his rage. But later once he was all alone, what he would never admit where the tears he’d cried when no one was looking, or how he’d beat his fists against the wall until they bled. He did still remember his name and who he was, still thought of the boy Allerin and the little girl he’d once known. But after that day he had been sure that boy was gone forever, how wrong he had been. Eighteen years and there was the little boy once more, pleading to be let out once more, longing to be free.

Perturbed Allerin clapped his hands over his ears trying to shut the memories out. He stood, dressing himself and left the room. The silver burns had almost fully healed now leaving him with the haggard appearance of a poorly stitched together quilt-work doll, covered in patches of new pink skin, old wounds and scars. What place did a creature such as himself have here amongst such beauty?


End file.
